Yes, finally. A summer day that could be Any Summer Day from the past half dozen years. We did what we do best:
Breakfast. On the porch. Before I moved to the farmhouse, it was breakfast on the condo terrace, but the recurring theme is to have breakfast outdoors. So that I can confront the day with a view toward everything that's vibrant and blooming out there.
(from the porch, looking out)
(from outside, looking in)
Then, I zip downtown, for a last (for this season anyway!) meeting with Barbara, my law school friend who is just passing through and who hasn't really inspected, in her numerous return trips here, the changes at the law school since our student days there. So I take her back to our old library reading room...
...and I show her the newer library reading room...
...and we talk about how much easier it is to be a student these days and I think afterwards -- my, but I talk like a very old person: we had it so hard! I mean, how old am I anyway?
We stroll over to the Union Terrace where the tables are nearly empty because, well, there are just not that many students here right now...
Hours pass. It's time to go home.
At the farmhouse, I take my books to the porch. How can it be otherwise! No need to water today and so when I am done with my work I am done done done with all obligations and chores for the day.
And so we hop on our bikes and we play a rousing game of bad tennis. Finally! Haven't played all season!
...and then we bike a few miles more (to pick up Thai food for supper) past fields of prairie that make your heart dance...
...and this is how I always remember summer -- days of biking this way and that, days of reading, of (bad) tennis, of not fussing with food or with life, days when our big race is to get home before the storms rumble through. Good days. Yeah, really really good days.
Breakfast. On the porch. Before I moved to the farmhouse, it was breakfast on the condo terrace, but the recurring theme is to have breakfast outdoors. So that I can confront the day with a view toward everything that's vibrant and blooming out there.
(from the porch, looking out)
(from outside, looking in)
Then, I zip downtown, for a last (for this season anyway!) meeting with Barbara, my law school friend who is just passing through and who hasn't really inspected, in her numerous return trips here, the changes at the law school since our student days there. So I take her back to our old library reading room...
...and I show her the newer library reading room...
...and we talk about how much easier it is to be a student these days and I think afterwards -- my, but I talk like a very old person: we had it so hard! I mean, how old am I anyway?
We stroll over to the Union Terrace where the tables are nearly empty because, well, there are just not that many students here right now...
Hours pass. It's time to go home.
At the farmhouse, I take my books to the porch. How can it be otherwise! No need to water today and so when I am done with my work I am done done done with all obligations and chores for the day.
And so we hop on our bikes and we play a rousing game of bad tennis. Finally! Haven't played all season!
...and then we bike a few miles more (to pick up Thai food for supper) past fields of prairie that make your heart dance...
...and this is how I always remember summer -- days of biking this way and that, days of reading, of (bad) tennis, of not fussing with food or with life, days when our big race is to get home before the storms rumble through. Good days. Yeah, really really good days.
yay, for good good summer days! loved enjoying yours for a few moments. ox
ReplyDeleteAhhh. I prefer the old reading room, the woody one with the mural. But that's me: old.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the quiet morning. (In stark contrast to mine.) I'll get out and take some pictures of my flowers today. Yours are just lovely. As is/was your breakfast.