Yes, I went out to dinner, and I drank fancy cocktails; and yes, I went to a farm party and the farmer's market and witnessed a tug-of-war over a pit full of rotting apples. But mostly, I sat for hours and shared conversation with good friends. Long conversations, full of intriguing tangents and revelations and the sort of challenging, hard-hitting truths you only get from your closest friends.
Oddly, summer is the most isolated season for me. The garden and other outdoor projects compel me close to home, keeping them spinning towards completion. As things wind down in the fall, there's more freedom. I am going to try my best to keep a trip to Ithaca on my monthly to-do list in the coming year, because it does me so much good.
As reward for helping my farmer friend Sharon label her 325-some row feet of dahlias, she sent me home with a jar stuffed-full. So yesterday afternoon, home again and happy, as I made tea and sliced apples and relocated my slippers (for it was 56 degrees in our house!) I also snipped and trimmed and made arrangements.
I don't really know what I'm doing, I just know that it's fun.
And I know that I did not expect pink to pop so gorgeously against our dining room's gray walls. Duly noted.