A long day--the usual household chores, email exchanges with a cousin as we work together once more on family history projects.
I went out before noon determined to weed as much as possible of the 'greens' and young beets in the lower garden.
The sun was hot, bird-song was muted.
The scent of honeysuckle and roses hung on the light breeze.
I inched along the rows, resting my knees on a foam cushion.
Using a slender pointy trowel to loosen the roots, I lifted out clumps of grass, leaving some of the 'volunteer' sunflowers in place.
I finished clearing around the Swiss chard and kale, but left the row of beets for another day.
[I am learning what passes as 'moderation!]
Hoisting myself up from the ground I trudged into the house, greeted by the odor of beef simmering in the crockpot under a layer of onion, carrots and potatoes.
I gulped a glass of iced tea, headed for the shower.
Clean again, I assembled flour, butter, sugar and frozen blueberries, in preparation for a dessert.
Instead of making a proper pie, I rolled the pastry to fit a large oblong pan, simmered the berries with sugar and cornstarch mixed with a bit of water to make a thick filling.
I turned the berries into the prepared shell, topped it with another sheet of pastry, and slid it into the oven.
Jim came in from the garage, Matt and Gina arrived to share the meal.
To read the 'rest of the story' click on the link below.
That will save me the time needed to re-format and I think you will enjoy the wry 'headlines' of
Ed Waggoner, the editor of Columbia Magazine.