I thought about blueberry lemonade, but the blueberries from the farmer’s market are too good to be popsicles. I want to eat them by the handful fresh.
Instead, I paired pink grapefruit juice with minced peppermint from the garden and a hint of vodka at the top.
One red and one yellow cherry tomato were ripe this morning. The first of the season in my garden. Just in time for the solstice.
It should come as no surprise that I ate them before I had a chance to take a photograph. And really, they were far tastier than it was possible to photograph.
Walking home after another 11-hour work day.
Some mornings when I sit for meditation, the goddess incarnated as cat decides it is time for a twenty minute belly rub. Though I might do so meditatively and though her name is Uma, it is not quite meditating.
Just as I by complete coincidence was making ghee, the mail carrier misdelivered my neighbor’s Time magazine.
The debates will no doubt continue. We hunger for simplistic rules that apply equally to all. So much easier than conscious and responsible moderation.
Uma was indifferent to it, but my friend H thought the tat soi I’d picked within the half hour was better than catnip.
