Saturday

A wet morning. Was it just the other day when I complained of the ground being too dry? And it's a September rain -- one for which I hunt down my jacket. It's cool out there.

Ed is unfazed.
Aren't you cold? Don't you want your jacket?

I know it's a ridiculous question: he only has one jacket and uses it when it is really chilly. Cold, to him, is often all in the head and clearly it's not in his head on this September morning.





I study the weather maps. The rains may pass in time for me to do a late market run with my daughter and Snowdrop. We wait.

And they do pass. By 11, the sky reveals patches of blue.

(The soy field to the south of the farmette is just beginning to turn gold.)






Snowdrop is excited to be going out. Of course she is. Adventure lies behind this door!






Your toy cookie can stay home.
Okay okay, but let's go go go go go!






At the market, I stand back a little as my daughter makes her purchases. Cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers. Kale, cheese, basil. I could be in any number of places on this planet, at a market just like this one, and this scene would be as lovely, grounded in that beautiful act of transferring food from the hands of someone who grows it to someone who'll appreciate its value.






Me, I'm delighted to still find one or two vendors selling corn. And my usual oyster mushrooms. And this week, I cannot resist the flowers. $6 for a huge bundle of them -- the best deal on the square!


 



Gaga, I don't think this stroller is big enough for me and the flowers!






At the end of our walk around the square, Snowdrop has her reward of freedom to run...






Though honestly, she is just as happy helping push the stroller, loaded with foods and flowers.






Early afternoon. Snowdrop and mom return home and I return to the farmhouse and join Ed for a rousing session of butterfly watching from our perch on the porch.






We had had mild ambitions to do a hike, or perhaps stop by a local fair, but we do none of it. The afternoon is the type you wish you had more of when you rush from one thing to the next.

But by evening, we rouse ourselves again because Snowdrop is about to be our guest for supper and a sleepover.

Eat, play, throw balls and stuffies with ah-ah and finally, pj's...





... and bedtime.

Will she do her usual and wake with the farmhouse dawn? Will she pester us to get the day started then?

I'll let you know tomorrow. Right now, all is calm. The storms have passed and if you were to step outside, you'd see a beautiful sky studded with stars. Goodnight, goodnight, sleep well, sleep tight.