Vacation Day Two

I woke early to a slow rolling drenched thunder storm. Is there a nicer way to wake? Miking at my house is impossible in such weather--we have no sheltered stanchion and goats hate to get wet. Plus, I was out of coffee. So I pulled on my summer clothes, my husband's trench coat, my Keens, and I left in the rain for the market.

I bought food for the week: a bag of apples, a tub of fresh guacamole, a bag of coffee, a ciabatta loaf. (Mostly, I'll drink fresh milk, eating eggs here and there from my chickens.) In the name of frivolity I also bought some flower seeds and a new magazine. Which I read while I drank a cup of coffee at a market table. As I read, the weather cleared.

Crossing the parking lot under grey and blue skies, the air smelled better than your favorite food, almost as delicious as baby skin. This kind of rain reminds me of my maternal Grandmother, the beach, and how much I love to move through the world at times and places most humans avoid. I drove home feeling an expansive love for my family and gratitude for the sensuality of creature life on this strange planet.

Yesterday I stood above the big dam on the river with my computer-met friend, Maria from Maine. We saw a bald eagle. We watched a baby turtle swim unaware of us--which, if you know wild turtles--is an astonishment.

My hound ate a package of chocolate chips last night. Then slept on the couch. He is such a good soul.