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.
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.