Friday

It is one of those Fridays where Ed has a techie meeting on the other side of town. Our morning schedule is focused on that, since for once, one of us has to be somewhere at an early-ish hour. If yesterday was damp then hot, today is windy and cool.







Still, we eat breakfast on the porch. I tell Ed that we should enjoy the last porch meals. He's not convinced that warm air is behind us. There is always a return of summer in autumn, he reminds me.





And then he goes off on his motorcycle, which he'll ride until a frost or a snowfall will ice the roads and make it difficult for him to stay upright.


In the afternoon I pick up a sleepy Snowdrop. You could say that the bracing air revives her.






(Cheepers we don't have anything for you!)






(Lets play store. But first I have to write a few things...)






Sleep is a funny thing: it runs along its own track. In the morning, I always get up before Ed. I tiptoe about but even so, almost always I wake him.  Snowdrop, too is a light sleeper at night. A storm, even one far away inevitably will wake her. Me, I'm a light sleeper all the time, except in the evening when we're watching TV. Its booming sound has no impact on me: I sleep.

When I pick up Snowdrop at school today, she is just ending a nap. And  despite the tumult, she naps right there on the floor with kids running around, grownups talking, chairs banging. When we come back to the farmhouse, we find a tired Ed. By late afternoon, despite Snowdrop's boisterous play in the same room, he is sound asleep, waking up later to ask -- where is the little girl? Did she leave?







(Loud and happy)






In the evening, I make chili. Ed comments -- it's been such a long time since you've made it! 
Well of course. Who eats chili in the heat of summer! Tonight, on the eve of fall, we dig in.