still life

It is remarkable how quiet the days can be in the summer and how terribly full they become after Labor Day.

Ed has a morning meeting and so I eat breakfast alone. Tomatoes! I need to attend to them: freeze some, put aside another set. Amazing how odd their shapes become as they grow!

Outside, the skies are gray. It may be raining again. I know it was drizzling when Isis came in in the middle of the night. Twice.

Wipe him down, please!

Yeah, okay, sure... what?

Rain. A good thing for the farmers around us.

 

I take papers to campus, dump them in my office and come back to an afternoon of errands with Ed. These are charming little escapades into the terrible world of big box stores. He drags me to Shopko because miniature planting roses are going for $1.29 each. It’s such a sweet gesture, even as in August, I’m all planted out. I bought my girlfriend roses, he tells the barista at Paul’s later.

Not for me! For your farmette!

No, for you.

Well alright. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear it. A note of sentimentality. But you have to really listen for it. 

I ask – do you want to eat dinner on the porch? Chicken brats, corn, a salad of garden tomatoes.

We play with my camera. I try to catch him when he’s not making gestures that don’t belong on a mellow blog. It’s not easy.

We move toward dusk calmly, happily, without reservations. And with chiken brats and tomatoes from the garden.