Garden thinned, leaves falling on the back deck. Wool finally feeling good in my hands, needles clicking quicker. Baby walking half-way across rooms, kicking balls and kissing dolls. Bath in the pool outside, wind whispers and neighbors chatter, bubbly hair and foam alphabet.
Soup weather. Soup season, at least. Cut the leeks under running water, clean the dirt between the layers. Baby walking and falling and crying. Too tired to be awake but not sleepy. Melt butter in a pot. Add leeks. Put Abigail upstairs and listen to her sing to herself. Sing to the cat. The window. The clothes she pulls off her father's dresser and into the crib. Coos and quiet and coos.
Today is Wednesday. What does that mean? It doesn't mean anything anymore. Water the pants with water from the rain barrel. Add the bowl of vegetable ends to the compost pile. Pay the bills. At least most of them. Wash the diapers, hang them in the sun. Wash the tub. Knit a swater for the naked doll.
Abigail is quiet now, quiet for some time. The leeks smell like they may be ready for broth and potatoes. My sewing room (or laundry room) is clean now, piles for each project: the shirt quilt for G and K, the chicken quilt I have to start. Finished knitting projects. Knitting projects that just need finishing. Knitting projects just barely started. Notions. Notions! Abigail is cooing again.
So many tomatoes I am thinking of canning.