Sunday

Such a glorious summer it has been! What right do we have to gripe now, given the weeks, many weeks we've had of sunny days and cool nights?

It's because we're nearing the end of it, right? You always want the last of anything to be the best of the best. We're greedy that way. End the meal with a perfect dessert. End the summer with a perfect string of days.

Undoubtedly, this week messes with our sensibilities. Days of muggy weather -- that's a coastal problem! We, in the Upper Midwest, we expect blue skies! And cool nights! Well, not this week. Once again I keep the windows shut and the AC on, reassuring myself that in a few days, this too shall pass.

We both went to sleep late last night and so it was a toss up who should rise with the chickens. Isis solved the problem for us by creating a racket even before the rooster first crowed and we have an unspoken understanding that if it's my kids that are causing a disturbance (which they never do!), it's my problem, but if it's a pet that dates back to Ed's bachelor days -- then it's his responsibility. Oh, sure, I can step up and pitch in, but the default position is that it's his worry.

So my first walk outside is later. Much later. To clean the coop and feed the cheepers some stale bagel and even more stale granola (they are a very convenient guilt appeaser that way: they eat our mistakes). And to take stock once again of the garden.






Not great, compared to July, sublime compared to anytime between October and May.






And then comes breakfast. Cheeper eggs for Ed.





The usual for me.

Sunday. This is family dinner day. My daughter's tastes these days drive the menu, so that
I spend a delightful afternoon baking a sour cherry cake (with kefir!)...











...and rolling out spinach potato gnocchi.






True, it is muggy outside, but with the fan on, it's just a beautiful night on the porch. Stunningly beautiful.






In a warm sort of way.