"The wind is in from Africa, last night I couldn't sleep...."
After much debate about whether we should celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday or Friday (Thursday in the States) we settled on Thursday-mostly so we could rest our aching bodies for a day from the fencing job we're doing.
It's 11am. The oven fire is going. The three wwoofers went down to the water to catch fish for dinner. Chad, not confident in their ability to catch us our main course, has gone into town to buy some variety of poultry. That leaves me alone to start the breads. I wouldn't have it any other way. I've got Joni Mitchell playing on the stereo (a staple in the kitchen from when Matt and I used to cook together in Denver), two loaves rising in the greenhouse, and I'm about to start a third.
"I remember that time you told me-you said 'love is touching souls.' Surely you touch mine 'cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time...."
9pm: Bellies are full of fish, chicken, kumara, veggies, bread and dessert (four of them). Dishes are washed, garden is watered, and company's gone. Time to sit around the campfire and digest, listening to guitar and watching the stars.
