on this day

You had a friend over, Ed tells me.

You had a friend over too.

Coincidence: I had mine, he had his and it all sort of blended into one harmonious whole.


It was a perfect summer day and I remembered the deal I had made with myself back in February: on a perfect summer day, I will finish staining the new window frames at the farmhouse. And so Ed took out the nine new windows and I set up shop on the porch, staining and sealing.

You know what’s really strange in an exhilarating sort of way? All the upstairs windows of the farmhouse (and some downstairs) are out for at least today and tomorrow. It’s as if we are in a house without walls: the winds blow from one end to the next and it all feels sort of fragile.

I also wrote work letters and attended to emails. I felt it was the day to get things done.

You’ve seen photos of meals on the porch. Brunch, grilling dinners, breakfasts. I’ll complete the set today. Here’s lunch.





A throw together meal of sliced tomatoes and basil and picholine olive oil from Languedoc. And cheeses and rhubarb. Even peanut butter. Of grape juice and lemon fizzy water and salty chocolate from Minneapolis. And shots of espresso. To help my freind drive the long way back to the Twin Cities.


There is a tomorrow and there is the next day. After that? We’ll see. It will be different, for sure. Or, if I’m lucky, it’ll be the same.