You have to wait until 7.

“Look! There’s a giant egg out there! See! That yellow one!” “That’s not an easter egg sweetie, it’s a lemon.”

Blueberry muffins, coffee, water, mimosa.

“I guess I better go grab those easter eggs.” I walk out to the rear of the yard and am overwhelmed by the scent of lemon and orange blossoms. It reminds of the ranch last spring and every path you wondered down was lined with the fragrance of orange and lemon and jasmine.

I think we might have a peach tree. He asks me if I can imagine how cool it would be to make peach cobbler from our own peaches, all golden brown in the cast iron skillet from Aunt Janice. I can. I can imagine it.

A hammock and a book.

“May we all seek to approach the world thus—as a place of overwhelming wonder and also inevitable transformation, where there are always new dewdrops to discover, clinging at dawn to every leaf.” - Lost Worlds of the San Francisco Bay Area by Sylvia Linsteadt

If could write as simple and beautiful as this, yes, please.

Rotating chairs to chase the sun.

We think about the things we’ll grow in the next house. But really I should start now. Bring me the rosemary and the sage and the thyme, tomatoes and blueberries and blackberries.