It is Sunday.
The 16th of February.
We are in Louisiana with fields and cattle and tractors moving hay bales.
The sun came out, apropos on Sun-day. A nice change from the gray gloom that sat on the land yesterday.
I did very little. I ran an errand into town and baked and set out appetizers and s’more fixins at dusk around the fire.
The dog smells and is in his element. Barking at everything with a motor or on four legs.
The kids caught crawfish and set out bait traps and fed the cows out of the back of the pick up while I cringed because I just knew they’d fall out. City girl, they’d mutter.
The sky changed colors and everyone told stories until it was black out. Between the s’mores and the cheeses, we barely had an appetite left for dinner so we just grilled salmon (this time not setting anything on fire) and called it done.
I am writing about the small and remembering how gorgeous these small spaces and moments are.