Thursday, September 13, 2012

vegetable soup

I did warn you, right? On Thursday, here, on Ocean, I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel. There are no quirky ideas festering, no time for creative thought, not even a handful of minutes to take the camera outside for a photo or two. (How easy is that: go outside and shoot a photo of a flower! No? No.)

The day starts early... So early! I read email, I go downstairs and think -- this is the time to make do with a quick picture, as requested by one of my commenters. There you go – dry Chinese lantern. Note how it looks a tad pale after 14 months on a sunny windowsill. Note, too, how gloomy it is outside. Dark enough that I have to turn on the lamp.

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It’s cold, cloudy, dreary -- all of it. And wet. I take the donkey car. There’s no other way. Yesterday’s bike ride seems like it was from another era.

And when I drive home it’s even colder and darker and grayer. If the corn fields are golden now, you wouldn't know it.

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The farmhouse is chilly enough that we consider putting the heat on. Ed is (vicariously?) tired. I make a pot of minestrone soup and he tells me it’s good to have hot soup on a cold day like today.

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I clear the dishes and sit down to write. Ed dozes on my shoulder. It’s rare that we’re both so zapped. Worn to the core. Tomorrow will be better, brighter, newer, finer... it always is.