Finishing up the curly kale from the Swallow Hill Farm which I bought at the farmer's market this week. The yellow female flowers with squash bulges at their bases, growing from the compost heap. A rainy day, gently darkening the soil where the perennial transplants will go. Hot cups of herbal tea. With honey. Postcards. Discovering tomatillos. Hosting a family dinner, and the tents popping up like mushrooms on the lawn as cousins take advantage of the green starry sprawl. Collecting seeds from the progeny of my Great-Aunt Evelyn's cosmos. The low-flying hawk. Covering a new journal in teal blue linen, and writing in it by low wattage headlamp while Cedar falls asleep at night.