Bad weather

A muggy evening this week, above. If the electricity bill is going up, the gas bill is coming down. The stove is used for morning espresso, that's it. We have bought our first box of frozen fruit lollipops for after dinner treats. We eat our morning bread fresh, unable to bear it toasted.

We had dinner at Al di La. I had been in Park Slope to visit a blog friend whose garden plan I helped out with last year, and which is making progress, and over wine and cheese she told me the unexpected and bad, bad news that has devastated her and her husband's lives this year. The proverbial bolt out of the blue.

After we parted I called Vincent and asked him to meet me. I wanted to hold him close and eat good food, and appreciate the eating of it, while we could. Good health is easy to take for granted. While I waited for him I walked down Union in the last of the long evening's light, over the greasy canal, and back up Carroll, across the little wooden bridge that shudders when cars cross it. Then I stopped near the subway station and quite soon he emerged from it.

At the restaurant, like in the old days, Emiliano was at the door.

If you read this, blog friend, you have all my love and Vince's too, and we look forward to helping you dig holes in the garden, and planting when we have found the right plants. And perhaps the hounds can help dig, too.