“I look longingly at the last danish in the case. Probably recently unfrozen & from a food distributor but sitting on its humble shelf in the early morning light, it’s easily transformed into a thing of beauty. Well, it isn’t that early. In the fall, when things are wet & cold for a while, there’s no sense in heading into the garden right at the crack of dawn. No, better to hold off a bit. Plenty of time for coffee, and a treat, and still enough daylight to work late, as needed. And it is needed. I think Robert Frost said “...and miles to go before I sleep”. Could be my motto. It’s been that way ever since I first thought it would be a cool idea to have children. But things are never simple. An older gentleman has been self-serving himself from the coffee urn, while I stand counting pastries. The math is obvious. If he was here first, and had his heart set on the last danish, then who am I to barge in and take it? For some, it’s coffee first, & then ... I’m paralyzed with this realization. I admit that social interactions often flummox me. They take more time to decipher than they should. Maybe I should just be put in a cage. It’s all too difficult. I just need calories. Breakfast should not be fraught like this. I glance at him, then pretend to be eyeing the rest of the general store, as if I had forgotten something. I know that I will end up with something to eat, & for that, I am grateful. But on some forgotten planet, I am eating way better than this. I am not fighting over a 5” x 2” lump of non-nutrition. And on this note, I step back, having lost my will to grab or jump in front, or cheat for something no one needs to be eating anyway. I do need my coffee, however. And what ever is left in the case after this man has had his way with it, I will be glad for. The day is surely going to be glorious, outdoors with the plants, and the soothing sounds of autumn. I don’t expect to encounter leaf blowers, or chippers, or guys with an attitude, or even dumber guys (& gals) who spray chemicals. Mostly, I’m having a very copasetic wind down to my gardening season. From time to time, I engage with a few nice tradesmen building stone walls, or generator sheds or raised beds, but that is as complicated as it gets. Mostly the contractors leave at 3 pm. Sometimes the stone masons stay later. They know what’s coming. It can’t stay this warm for too much longer. And they are up against it, rebuilding the side of an enormous pond wall. But today, even the mason leaves, right around that mid-afternoon witching hour. I have a bunch of hours to go yet, and I’m on a roll. The clouds have been playing with me all day, and a hard drizzle comes in, for about five minutes. It’s strange, this weather that defies any forecast I’ve been reading. No matter; the turtle head is down, the phlox, the white iris, what’s left of the peonies. I lose track of time, during these long days of industry, working alone. Looking up, only when a truck pulls in, and I notice the light is dimming. A man with a bucket, heading up the hill. He turns and waves. “I’m getting apples for my goats”, he yells. I smile and nod, and wave back, and feel happy for the goats. It’s one of the carpenters who’s been rebuilding the dock, come back to pick up drops. The golden apples on the hill are gems for the taking, no human is going to eat them now. I rub my dirty hands on my pants and check the time. It’s almost 6 pm. When he comes by to chat, I admit it’s time to wrap up my work day, too. “You drive home in the dark”, he says, not really a question. “Yeah,” I say, wondering what to say next, by way of explanation. “There’s no one on the roads at this hour, not really,” I continue, “and I know the way like the back of my hand”. One gas station will still be open in Rochester, but others, shut down. I’ll make my way along the elegant river, and up over the mountain gap, with a feeling of ineffable tenderness.It doesn’t escape me that today I’ve dodged another bullet. I’ll cruise through sparsely populated areas of the land, fluid, on task, timeless & glacially as through a dream. I appreciate the quiet. It’s been a hell of a few years, and I will soak myself in this peace now, while it’s still emphatically, but tenuously, a given.”
