Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
Thanks to my weekend waitressing career, it had been two years since I'd traveled to Ithaca to properly celebrate Kat's birthday. And, naturally, I'd forgotten that it used to be one of my favorite holidays. Back when we all lived in town together, we'd converge on a gorge or a park pavilion or a state park campsite, always that first weekend in July, always toting plenty of libations, and celebrate.
December birthdays just aren't as much fun. Alexis and I can commiserate on that account. But at least we share a good friend whose birth date seems designed to make up for the mediocrity of ours.
Saturday's agenda: waterfall, picnic, winery, winery, lake, party.
It was splendid.
I hope the birthday girl had the most fun, but honestly, I'm not sure. I'd forgotten how this is the time of year when it feels sooo indescribably good for me to get away from "the farm" for awhile.
Kat knows a lot of farmers and gardeners, and even an orchard manager or two. So, naturally, the food at her party was... oh, sweet heaven. Everyone flooded that kitchen with towel-wrapped bundles of summer onions, and bowls of fresh cherries, and bags of ruby-speckled lettuce.