work

That says it all, no? A day of work. Ed, on his improvised scaffold...

...me out on the porch still, because it’s just so darn lovely outside right now.

(I can’t resist pointing out the occasional lily. Still there, despite all odds.)

Farmer Lee, across the road, working too..

In the late, late afternoon, we bike to Paul’s. The road part way there is torn up but we forge ahead (because the detour is just so long!). It isn’t fun, but one can’t fret. Roads expand, proliferate, destroy the landscape – it’s just the way it is. We’ll soon be a country of asphalt and gas stations, with token trees planted in between... Sigh...

At Paul’s, for the second time in two days I get this question – how do you put up with him? (Ed often likes to misbehave in public.)

It always makes me smile. Who puts up with whom anyway? The person who misbehaves in public, or the one who frets about odd things and, on top of it, plays a really lousy game of tennis?

Late in the evening, we eat a salad nicoise, without the anchovies. Amazingly perfect for being a tad imperfect.