a quiet Monday

You'll say -- how is that different from the other days? They all seem quiet!

Well now, I suppose that's right. How often do I step out of this farmette and rub shoulders with the wider world?

Ah, but I travel -- I'll answer. And when I return, home again, "quiet" is a very desirable entity. It's as if I need it to digest everything.


Today I did not step out much. I dutifully rode the bike to the library...



(past harvested wheat)



...to return old stuff and take out new stuff, and my stepper applauded me for my efforts, but aside from this, I stayed put.

I could end the post right now, because if I stayed put, is there more to add?

Yes. No day is the same. So for example, for the first time in a long while, Ed and I did not eat breakfast together. It was one of those moments where he almost forgot a meeting at work and when he did remember, it was impossible to imagine that we could fit in a morning meal. This was his breakfast:






And this was mine (much later):






Otherwise, let me fill your space with flowers, okay? So, this batch is for you.



(toward the sheep shed)





(north of the farmhouse)





(west of the farmhouse)