August 07, 2011

8:29 a.m.

Rain

The little patio fete at Snow's house was very pleasant. She rallied emotionally enough to flirt with her friend Whitebeard ("He's aging gorgeously, like Se@an C0nnery") a man with whom I had a casual, chatting acquaintance years ago when I worked at the farm stand eleven summers in a row. I hadn't seen him in maybe 10 years. It was great to reconnect. Radar also had a good time, and wasn't too shy. He is realizing, as I already knew, that it's of benefit to him to cultivate a circle of more mature friends. "It's nice to be with people whose idea of a good time is not consuming vast quantities of alcohol and talking trash about other people." Welcome to the adult world, Radar.

He will find, as this goes on, that the gap between these worlds will only widen, and that it's preferable to be on this side.

He has been devouring my "Raising Chickens for Dummies" book. "Did you know that the color of a hen's eggs is dependent on the color of her ears?" He confessed to me, as we returned from locking up the chickens for the night, that he'd always wanted to be a farmer but never thought he'd have the chance. Not to put the cart before the horse, but that opens up a sparkly bucket of possibilities here, should this relationship survive in the long term.

So he sleeps... every half hour I go in and give him kisses. He does not wake, but takes my hand and refuses to let it go. He looks like a baby. He sleeps in positions my shoulders and neck cannot even contemplate. And the rain comes down in sheets.

Later we'll have to vacuum water out of the basement.

We replaced the missing crystals on the wedding-cake light fixture in the upper hallway yesterday. I suppose we'll find a couple of indoor things to do today; the farmers' market is pretty much out in this weather. We'll read to each other. Make banana bread, maybe artisan bread. The air is glorious.

*****

I found my journal from England in May. It was relatively short and fairly positive. Not even three months have passed, and life is so very different. I have an abiding sense of being guided and looked after.