Work from home day.

Actually. It’s not a home day.

He takes me through the garden, tells me about the melons and blackberries, the light crop of tomatoes, veraison, trellising. It’s his excitement about the cover crop of Sorghum Sudangrass that gets me excited too. I miss being outside.

We both agree that the wine is legit.

He tells me to take an apple from the tree. Buckeye Galas. He says there’s nothing else like them. I snap a picture of one and then pluck it from the tree.

They say nothing which says everything.

We eat and she tells me things and I tell her things and she asks me questions that I can’t answer and then there are the things we both know.

I know what that means.

Maybe.

Comfortable.