Another long day canning tomatoes and by the time I lift the last bubbling jar from the pressure canner I’m spent. But there’s still the garden that needs watering, and the flowerpots are thirsty, and Gerry promises a caramel sundae in the mix. That’s enough to entice me to change my clothes, freshen up, and meet him at the front door.
I climb into the car with my brand new watering wand. F or the second year in a row thieves stole the one I left at the community garden so I’ll keep this one at home and carry it like a sceptre when I walk the path from my car to my plot. There’s something fun about that.
But first, ice cream. We go through the drive-through and, with caramel sundaes in hand, head to a park. It’s busy on this beautiful mid-August afternoon, but we find an empty bench. We watch dogs cavort in the water and agree that Maya would hate all of this. Our Yorkie is an introvert, like me. The doggy social-ness of this place would stress her out as much as a room full of people and forced small talk does me.
So we sit and we chat, and enjoy our sundaes, and it’s about as much of a perfect way to spend an afternoon as I can imagine. And when we get home, there’s that satisfying sight of jars lined up like soldiers in formation on my countertop to greet us.
We eat a light supper, thankful for garden leftovers, and sit in the hot tub for more good conversation before we retire. I go to bed weary, sleep well, and wake in the wee hours for divine conversation.
Simple happy. Remember that running list I used to keep? There are many list-worthy late summer things I could add from the past twenty-four hours. And on, and on.
