Finally, it rained. So, that’s what it will be like in a month – wet and cold again. And then colder.
I am on the Square to get a sandwich at Café Soleil. The irony of it.
It is a sacred little spot, full of history. Of warm promises. With fresh and honest everything, set against images of farmland and dill flowers. A place of daydreams.
I leave with my brown paper bag, thinking of the Farmer John’s provolone sandwich with apples, pesto mayo and spinach leaves (that one is for someone else) and the chocolate sand cookie with crystals of salt on top (that one is for me).
The Capitol Square is empty. Almost empty.
I take the sandwich home. Home is warm, home is red and brown and golden too. I’ve given up on yellow and blue. Those are Mediterranean colors. In Wisconsin I need red and brown and golden to get me through the grays and blues of the very long winter.