Saturday

Sometime late Friday, Ed falls asleep on the couch and I drag myself to bed and give in to sleep there. But within an hour, I am awake. I glance at the clock. 1 a.m. What's bugging me?
Ed?
Yeah... wha... -- comes the groggy response.
You forgot the cheepers.

He goes out, locks them in and comes upstairs, now fully awake. And so I am as well.

We talk.

All through the night.

I haven't done that since my early twenties -- pulled an all-nighter just to talk. About work. Boats. Emails. Decisions. Boats. Work. It's as if the last month demanded that kind of a review and somehow it didn't come to pass until now, tonight, all night long.

By 6 he is up again, releasing the chickens. I fall asleep for an hour, not more. We have things to do.


For a number of reasons I begin Sunday farmhouse cleaning this Saturday morning. That and tidying the yard takes a while. Ed comments -- we're eating breakfast just before lunch.

A neighbor (in rural areas, the term neighbor has broad application) drops in and we apologize for eating this strangely late morning meal, but we want to log it in. It has become important -- for me, maybe for him too.






And then I tend to the flower fields. It had rained yesterday after all and I am grateful for it. No watering needed. I make peace with my garden now while it is in its the last days of glory.












Ed takes off on his too small but just right for him ancient motorcycle to pick up lunch quiches at La Baguette.

Our friend and Greg's wife, Jacqui, is our guest this afternoon and we spend a wonderful set of hours sitting on the porch, eating, talking, eating -- the porch was meant for just this.






Later in the afternoon, the young parents come over with Snowdrop. She wasn't scheduled for a farmhouse visit but plans change and I am so so happy to have her here.






She exudes joy and her smile invites you to participate in her small world of happiness.






Ed naps, I play with the little one.






Not for long though. He returns to working on the porch steps. He so wants to move this project forward for me! I take Snowdrop for a walk along the rural roads.











At the farmhouse again, Snowdrop's gaze keeps migrating toward the top shelf where she clearly spies the book that for some reason has totally captured her imagination. I bring it down and she gives it a very industrious once over.



(...who lived in a shoe...)


Ed comes in, she gives him an affectionate acknowledgement...






The day draws to a close. Leftovers for supper. Be glad there is a supper!

We are. Very grateful. And very tired.