spinach walk

And the last class sentence was uttered, and I packed up to go home.

Except, I’d forgotten that this week was the first week of the winter delivery of CSA spinach (CSA: we pay the farmer in advance and every two weeks, all winter long, we pick up a pound of hoop-grown spinach).

I’m without bike, without car and it’s drizzling. So I walk. Don’t have an umbrella. Or, do I need an umbrella? Drizzle is like a slow demise – you don’t realize you’re succumbing to external forces until you've succumbed, totally and completely.

Autumn. It should be waning, but it is indeed a slow wane. From my walk, to the place of delivery, I saw what I can only describe as winter cherries...





...and roses (fading, but still, roses!) and in someone’s yard, these:





November dreams.

From the spinach pick up point to my home is another three miles, but I’m fine with that. I have only home tonight. Home, not work, not anything, no schedule, no deadline, not tonight, just home.

I keep walking.


Oh, but I almost forgot! I stop at David Bacco's chocolate shop to pick up a box of chocolates. For Ed’s aunt. How is it that I should be buying chocolates for Ed’s aunt, who lives in New York?




That’s a week-end story. For now – home. Just home.