Domestica

Two hours traveling to Pelham Bay Park in the Bronx, on three trains and one bus. Green woods, wild flowers, an ebbed tide, a baguette sandwich, many photos,  a bus and then a packed rush hour subway home, a quick shop for fruit and salad and bagels and wine (supercilious Heights Chateau wine woman asking if I want another bag, she always phrases it that way - all I was carrying was a back pack...another bag (for our three bottles, don't ask)... the reason I shop at a different wine shop as often as possible; do I really have to justify to her why I sometimes want a plastic bag? Answer, yes!no! hence, shop elsewhere) - and we are home.

Our bunch of lily of the valley in water (picked from some woods and I feel fine - they are very invasive, yay!), smelling heavenly, my gin and tonic smelling just as good, the combination of lily of the valley and gin and tonic divine, and only slightly complicated by roasting bacon in the oven. Supper is crepes stuffed with poached egg, grated parmesan and crispy bacon.

The flowers are washing the crazy subway people off me, the Bronx kids making fun of the Asian woman, Five dolla! Five dolla! - I swear I thought I might have to hit one of them. The laptop man beside me who elbowed me and farted continuously.

The terrace is watered, the roof farm has been dug over by a squirrel, and we have loads of photos to digest. And tomorrow I must somehow take pictures of the roses framing the sliding door because this is the moment that will be three days long, and then be gone until next year, or never.

Bacon's ready.