The day, which started out foggy, turned out to be quite lovely, with a bright blue sky filled with white fleecy sheep clouds. As soon as I got home I gathered the cats and husband and we went out into the bad garden.
During his lunch break, my step-son brought a treat home from the Co-op: a New York Times. I grabbed it and read it, sitting in my pooped-on blue chair while the cats tore around on the straw and the chickens picked through my meager afternoon offerings.
We ate a delicious dinner of fresh garden greens garnished with the world's best canned tuna and a surprise Sjaak's chocolate bar. Then my step-son came through with a bag full of fresh bananas and berries and spray-on whipped cream. Yes! I started cutting up stawberries when I heard...thunder? Yes! G-man and I went outside to scan the skies but we saw no rain or lightning.
Then our neighbors came home with Hank, their new (rescue) dog. And while we were petting Hank and fussing over Dinah (their huffy, 14-year-old dog), my neighbor handed me back the bowl I'd given her filled with fresh eggs—only now it was filled with homemade elote tamales and pico de gallo. Then big fat drops started falling out of the sky and I sat down to a second dinner of fresh tamales and fruit and listened to the thunder and watched the lightening in the darkening sky of summer.