Fog With Sunflowers and Various Lines

It’s morning: it’s foggy and thick.  It’s afternoon: it’s bright and windy. I made a French Apple Cake from my trusty Joy of Cooking.  The Gravenstein tree is so generous with its fruit! I can remember, maybe even last year, wanting to remove it because it lost so much to blight, and here she is, just throwing apples at me every time I get close. I drape myself over various chairs to read a wonderful novel, getting up occasionally to steal a little bit of cake before dinner until I know I’ve had too much and am in danger of not being able to eat the pasta dish we’ve planned (Coxcombs, Tomatoes, Garlic and Parsley from the first Greens cookbook—my copy is falling apart in great familiar sections, and, no, I don’t want a new one.) We wait all year for the cherry tomatoes to ripen, just so we can savor this dish. Mister S made a nice sourdough loaf so we can mop up the juices. Every once in awhile, as I’m coming up the garden path, or walking along at the market, I remember that I’m eighty years old!  Life is good.