The day is not mine anymore, it’s theirs – it belongs to the
students and much of what I say and do stems from this basic fact: today, the
orientation for new law students begins.
So yes, I’m on the porch with Ed eating breakfast, but I’m
hurrying...
...and I rev up Rosie quickly, very quickly, because I can’t
be late. Ah, the familiar spin past the very placid lakes (taken from the seat of my old girl, so forgive the distortions)...
...and after a day at school, I’m back on the porch with Ed. Etc...
... and still, we talk about students. I'm not writing,
not planting, not any of that. Students. And what’s good to consider for the
semester before me and what’s less good and all this takes time, even as at the
end of the day, all I remember is that I talked a lot and wrote little. There
are days like that.
In the evening, Ed and I ride his Honda, out in the cool breezes of a gorgeous summer (it's still summer!) night, out to a tennis court – that one in the forest at the side.
To the (terrific) commenter who said – hey, maybe it’s your shoes, I offer
you this photo of our game today. I took heed and shed my imperfect shoes.
The game was not better not worse than others. And still, it’s always
deliriously fun and funny and on these cooler cloudy evenings, I think I am so
lucky that after work, I get to have this (from the seat of Ed's Honda):
As for supper? Well, we have all those garden cherry tomatoes! So,
salad with plenty of them (and cucumbers from Farmer Lee and chives from the
gardens and spinach from somewhere) and eggs with oyster mushrooms. I know.
It’s a weekly standby. But a good one.
