Dearest, just the quickest post ever this evening, to put my arms around you & kiss your cheek. I hope everything's okay. Someone hits on my blog via, among the search terms, "childhood father," coupled with a dearth of hits today (I'm okay - I'm not that needy) - but my imagination does the combinatorics, and I look at the calendar, and wonder - and well, all this preamble is so that at the veritable train station I can keep my arms around wonderful you a few seconds longer.

Went to the CSA, caught a glimpse of the farmer, a very handsome man around our age. Actually, it's not that he's so handsome - it's just that he looks very balanced, fit, intelligent, lively - Vitruvian - what we like - what we aspire towards, darling.

It's been a very muggy day here, so I did a walk at the conservation area, but skipped - for two days in a row now - the home pilates workout to C.R. It was just too hot. And I felt fatigued, though I feel okay now. Ebb & flow.

It was a servant who brought down the glass of sherry - I read it just today, in the Sewall E.D. biography, from Mabel's detailed journal entries. Sometimes E.D. would sit on the stairs, in the shadows, to listen to Mabel play piano & sing - it occurred on many an occasion, it seems.

Darling, oh darling, what else? Having had quite enough (sorta) of the HBO glimpses into the life of a cathouse (though it's helped fuel a few fantasies, I must confess), I've Netflix-embarked on Ken Burns' Civil War series, which - as often as it's been repeated, including these days, on PBS - I have never managed to watch. Until now. Now I put it on, on the little kitchen TV set & DVD player, and listen (listen more than watch) as I move about the kitchen, cooking, feeding cats, putting away dishes, what have you.

It's a wonderful series (duh!) and in the final scene of episode 1, the most beautifully eloquent love letter of a soldier, on the eve of his deployment to battle, to his wife --- oh my dearest - I wept, it was so moving.

And just now, I was feeling so uninspired this evening, but managed to whir together some tart dough for a peach crostata (peaches being this week's fruit share), and another batch of awesomely delicious pesto from today's 'small handfuls' of fresh basil and parsley.

Darling, wherever you are, I hope you are doing well, and all 'childhood fathers' as well, or if not - with them - well then - then for all whom they left behind.

Goodness, I didn't mean for such an awkwardly lugubrious ending.

Loving you, dear angel.

Must run - oh another kiss

Tanglewood on the radio tonight to look forward to, a few minutes from now, as the skies clear, and I hope stars will come out -

xoxo

(launched w/o proofing - in the nature of dashing off a note to you - with yet another kiss)