And then there were none.
I haven't even been able to tell you that the dragon disappeared two days ago. But, just when I thought I was going to have to offer a picture of his absence...
We had a local food event on campus this afternoon; it was meant to teach us where our food comes from. Local farmers brought herbs and vegetables and took orders for organic lamb and beef. There was even a display of vintage tractors. One farmer's sign greeted us, and it was so sunny and I was so giddy with the relief of finishing my teaching for the semester (tomorrow, I read a book! a whole book!) that I let my picture-taking elbow get in on the action--either that or someone intruded upon my image, which happened repeatedly during the afternoon, as you'll soon see. But first:
The single best part of the event, to my mind, was the kennel of chickens, which turned out to be pretty difficult to photograph: they moved so quickly and so unexpectedly, these chickens! Plus, colleagues and students abounded everywhere I turned, so my mind was divided among a variety of conversations and this ongoing process of trying to get a good close-up image of the chickens, especially the black and white ones, whose feathers lay in such patterns--all without disturbing them any more than they were already disturbed by the occasional passing-by of dogs.
And then it was time for another enviably delicious dinner with my friends and their superb and gifted dogs. And then, on the walk home, as if the day hadn't been exceptional enough--kicking off as it did with the soft sight of a deer strolling through my neighbor's yard, glimpsed as I headed to the store to buy ingredients for the pancake breakfast with which my youngest students and I celebrated the semester's end today--I realized that now when the breeze blows, the sound that drifts to the ground is a slipping hush of new leaves, so green.
My favorite request of the day: "Talk to me about pie." But watch out. Once I start, there's no turning back. And theorizing pie-making? Yes, please.
We had a local food event on campus this afternoon; it was meant to teach us where our food comes from. Local farmers brought herbs and vegetables and took orders for organic lamb and beef. There was even a display of vintage tractors. One farmer's sign greeted us, and it was so sunny and I was so giddy with the relief of finishing my teaching for the semester (tomorrow, I read a book! a whole book!) that I let my picture-taking elbow get in on the action--either that or someone intruded upon my image, which happened repeatedly during the afternoon, as you'll soon see. But first:
The single best part of the event, to my mind, was the kennel of chickens, which turned out to be pretty difficult to photograph: they moved so quickly and so unexpectedly, these chickens! Plus, colleagues and students abounded everywhere I turned, so my mind was divided among a variety of conversations and this ongoing process of trying to get a good close-up image of the chickens, especially the black and white ones, whose feathers lay in such patterns--all without disturbing them any more than they were already disturbed by the occasional passing-by of dogs.
And then it was time for another enviably delicious dinner with my friends and their superb and gifted dogs. And then, on the walk home, as if the day hadn't been exceptional enough--kicking off as it did with the soft sight of a deer strolling through my neighbor's yard, glimpsed as I headed to the store to buy ingredients for the pancake breakfast with which my youngest students and I celebrated the semester's end today--I realized that now when the breeze blows, the sound that drifts to the ground is a slipping hush of new leaves, so green.
My favorite request of the day: "Talk to me about pie." But watch out. Once I start, there's no turning back. And theorizing pie-making? Yes, please.
posted by Dr. S at 11:28 PM
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