"One Day" by Robert Crowley
One day after another —
They all fit.
How is it mid-June? The days were always weirdly fast/slow, but the past three months have been like no other time in my life, how about yours?
We've slowed our baking around here as things go all summery. Those days you can step outside barefoot with your morning coffee and the yard is full of birds and flowers — how lucky are we? We're focusing more on salads, lately with bushels of greens cut from Emily's huge garden. Isaac and I made a socially-distanced visit this weekend to deliver a custom mask and left with armfuls of daisies, perfect tiny eggs. It makes me cry, it's so sweet to see friends in real life. Our neighbor came to eat in our yard with us last week and brought rhubarb pie and little toasts with homemade ricotta, mushrooms, foraged ramps. She left us bags of fiddleheads that we roasted and tossed into another big salad.
So the days are like that around the edges, plus the working and looking for more work and other things like the rug constantly needing to be vacuumed and sour-smelling towels and waiting for someone else to clean the bathroom, and that sort of thing. We may find a way to get Zoë here later in the summer! We are slowly making room for her, the house being somewhat full of four people's stuff. Goodwill is accepting donations and the dump is open, so I'm advocating for a little Marie Kondo, personally.
Okay, here we go, it's Wednesday they tell me.