Company on the weekend -- daughter and my friend Sean, both of whom are fellow woods- walkers \ berry-pickers \ wine drinkers and such.
Lovely rock ... too bad we didn't notice it was covered in red ants until after we'd sat on it.
[See those deliphinium behind her? The hummingbirds go crazy for them.]
And here's the both of us, in my garden.
And Jackson, swimming.
Today has been a nearly perfect day.
I woke well-rested (no small thing); ran 10k with Jackson (highlight: a stampede of cows, running along the fenceline beside us);
picked saskatoons;
weeded for a few hours (and noted the peas are almost ready, and lettuce and raspberries were picked again);
read a book (Gerry Hill's excellent My Human Comedy) and wrote a review of the same;
dealt with some publishing business;
rode my bike to the lake and went for a swim (plus began reading my next book for review);
came home and ate garden salad \ potatoes \ beets \ raspberries;
played piano;
cut the grass.
So, what would have bumped a nearly perfect day into perfection?
A cheque in the mail;
a call from a friend;
faster-cooking beets;
and some loving.