As August approaches, I think of how my old friend Laura used to say that with the end of July the slant of the light is different. As William Faulkner knew, the light in August is different. It presages the end of something.

Oh, we love August, the early apples, the burgeoning annual flowers in the garden, the goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace in the fields, but we know the easy, carefree days of summer are numbered.

Not that there are ever that many. I mean, we live in the North Country, not Florida or California. For many local people in the Adirondacks — school teachers are an exception — traditionally the summer months are not vacation, but a time for hard work. The High Peaks have been a tourist destination since the 1800s, and the tourist economy is still going strong. They look forward to fall.

As the days were growing perceptibly shorter, Laura began to think of the approach of the autumnal equinox and of time passing in general, of mortality, I suppose.

Laura was a great observer of the heavens; her moods and sense of well-being were intimately affected by the weather. She would call me on the phone to tell me “Go out and look at the clouds. They’re Paul Matthews clouds!” This in reference to the contemporary painter who captured the beauty of the Adirondack cumulonimbus to a fare-thee-well.

As Laura would have said–and often did, in frustration-“Oh, I can’t describe it!” I could never see the sense in trying to describe a work of art myself. If you don’t know about “Paul Matthews clouds,” you might want to Google it.

This is also the time of year when people start leaving bags of zucchini squash on other peoples’ doorsteps. My friend Herb used to issue the edict “Don’t buy zucchini!” Apparently he thought that zucchini is one of those things that are so plentiful and ubiquitous they should be free to all, taken for granted like the air we breathe here inside the Blue Line.

My daughter, Molly, says the same thing about lemons and avocados — she has an avocado tree in her back yard — but that’s California.

Laura informed me that zucchini bread is not the only use for over-sized, seedy squash. At August garden parties, she said, she used to serve a dish called zucchini crusted pizza adapted from the 1977 “Moosewood Cookbook” by Molly Katzen. This pizza was so good, Laura said, that it was always gone by the time she sat down at the table; she may never have actually tasted it herself. Still, from her wistful smile I could tell that she remembers it with fond nostalgia. Or perhaps the nostalgia is for those long-ago summer evenings, and the zucchini has little to do with it.

Just in case you encounter a zucchini behemoth — and this time of year it is more than likely you will — here is Laura’s recipe:

3 1/2 cups grated zucchini

3 eggs, beaten

cup flour

1/2 cup grated mozzarella

1/2 cup grated parmesan

1 tablespoon fresh basil leaves

salt and pepper

Salt the grated zucchini and set it aside for about 15 minutes, then squeeze out the excess moisture. Combine the ingredients and pat the mixture into an oiled 10-inch pie pan. Bake the crust for 20 to 25 minutes at 350 degrees, then broil until golden. Add the sauce and toppings and bake as for a regular pizza.

As I later learned, the Moosewood zucchini crust is basically a frittata, an Italian omelet. A frittata may be eaten as a hot or cold antipasto. It is flat, not folded, and may be cut into wedges to serve.

This time of year, plain salted zucchini and sauteed zucchini with fresh tomatoes and basil are good choices for fillings to be mixed into the eggs.

Enjoy the summer, and have a good week!

(Martha Allen lives in Keene Valley. She has been writing for the News for more than 20 years.)