There were only two and a half days, and that included the going and coming. We took a look and almost said too much for too little. But really, how can you measure the value of a break from your daily routine, going where your whim directs, gardens, farmers markets, dusty bookstores, donuts, the fresh scent of a pine forest and waterfall mist on your face? All of it folded together, leaf upon leaf, a book of vibrant living.
Really, it would be best described as so much for so little.
In our late-winter world – that has been alternately grey, then white, then grey again – there was comfort at the neighborhood cafe. Huddled with Cathy and Anne over soup and wedges of quiche nestled into mounds of tender greens. Thick slices of bread smothered in butter and jam. Mimosas to wash away the gloom. Laughter guarding against the damp.
We looked toward the window, and it was on with the jackets, the hats, the gloves.
At the Volunteer Park Conservatory, we plunged headlong into a world of green, gulping in its color deeply.
Could there be a better sight? Could there be anything better sitting fresh, there to renew your wearied soul?
Room after room of growth to awaken days and spirit alike. Paradise.
You could hear it in the woods that afternoon. Around the corner, obscured by the forest.
(A scream of joy? Or terror?)
Stars and spangles light up the sky,
No wonder kids love the Fourth of July.
A boom, a trail of smoke, and then a loud pop,
As colorful sparkles fan out and drop.
One after another, each twinkles and dies,
Just a moment’s pause, and the next one flies.
Then all too soon comes the grand finale,
Wave after wave, like an electrified tsunami.
And then it’s all over and all is quiet,
There’s a stillness where there once was a riot.
And clouds of sulfurous smoke in the air,
Are all that’s left to show that fireworks were there.
After a series of blue summer days, the rain finally came – and with it the shattering of our end-of-summer plans to go backpacking with our niece and nephew.
Instead there were flour, water, eggs, and salt – simple ingredients that call the hungry to the table. Our love, like pasta, is sticky. And so, we poured on the stewed tomatoes and gathered to converse around saucy slurps.
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