The spring equinox is a mere 36 days away. Thirty-six days till the tipping point. Feel the earth gently heave the weight of its northern hemisphere towards the sun.
Tonight, once darkness filled every nook, ice fell like upholsterer’s tacks. Put my foot down and my leg flew away from me, stretching long and taut and elastic like plastic man. Had to tear the car doors open, ri-i-i-i-ip.
Traveling at about 11 mph my son says with urgency, “Drive slowly, Mom.” Pause. Then, “Akem, Mom, drive slowly.” Akem?! I don’t have the heart to correct him.
Bundling’s cozy, yes. But peeling to your skin is lovely. I’m down to one green glove and we’ve got 36 days to go.
A mom-made plate, no question. Not by my mom, but it coulda been. Mine favors blue table linens, too. Artfully applied mustard….
Clue number 1: Fruit salad
I see this and feel instantly toasty. Flip-flopped feet done pier-dangling and now tucked up under a picnic bench, crossed ankles switching, toes rubbing arches.
Following closely on the heels of the equinox, summer solstice!
The Lunch Encounter 