Tuesday

A beautiful day. A busy day. A short post day.

A day where I think a lot about travel. The importance of it. The difficulty of leaving. The excitement of planning. All of it.

I stare hard at my flowers and warn them that if they pop more than one bud open in the ten days I am away I'll be terribly upset. Being dramatic with one's garden isn't necessarily helpful but it makes you feel good.

Breakfast. Lovely as always. No matter how great the croissant over there, this porch breakfast will always be at the top of my heap.






A look out at the big flower field.






A look west toward the echinacea plant. Moved here just last year.






And then I hurry over to Snowdrop's home. It's a cooler day today and she's dressed appropriately for it. And she is raring to go.






So we go for a walk. A lovely walk -- mommy, Snowdrop and gaga.






Quiet time afterwards. With a book...






In my lap, tapping the rhythm of a song on the tiny player keyboard.






And then finally I head home. Oh, I should spend the rest of the day readying the garden for my absence, but one glance tells me that it's faring well. I'll do touch ups early tomorrow morning, but it looks steady on its feet (only please let it rain at least once while I'm away!).

I attend, instead, to more pressing matters, like, for example, dragging Ed out to the nearest store so that he can pick up a pair of shorts. He has only two pairs and one has more tears than even the hippest torn up pair you'll see on a young kid. Lucky break: the shorts are only $13.92 each and so he agrees to putting two into our cart.

A quiet supper, a wistful stroll to the coop in the evening. Yeah, it's hard to leave it all and (especially) the people on this side of the ocean. But I know this about life: you can't run from new experiences just because the old ones are so comfortable and fine.

Still, it is a beautiful evening here in the Midwest, at the farmette, at home.