You can’t help it. The temperature, the cloud type will determine how you’ll move around today. I had to go to campus, I chose Rosie. But I miscalculated. It felt cold. Too cold.
Even as we are still so early in the fall season.
(on the ride home)
I could not wait to get back inside the farmhouse, where I cranked up the heat a bit, just to feel warm again. It worked. Or maybe it’s that, just before pulling into the driveway, I paused by the flower fields and things didn't feel quite so chilly there.
(on the ride home)
As always, the women tending the flowers plucked stems for me. You live there? Take flowers home? Yes... Oh yes...
The farmhouse. I have one more harvested fruit to deal with here, at home: the pears from a somewhat erratic pear tree (the top half of the pear always tastes better than the bottom half.. who knows why). I had a couple of dozen fruits to work with. I’d made the dough for the crust and the almond frangipane earlier. Now it’s a question of throwing it together and letting it bake.
And then, an hour later, cutting it up for supper.
(home)
Ed tells me that entering the farmhouse with the smell of baking pears in crusty dough is heartwarming. To demonstrate his satisfaction, he exhales deeply and promptly falls asleep on the couch.
Autumn stuff. Hard to ignore here. And that’s a good thing.
