A Harvest

E is collecting apples for an apple pie. The neighbor’s tree hangs over into our yard and is well laden with green apples turning slowly red. But you have to climb into the middle of a large bush to access the branches. E has spent all day in the middle of the bush, nearly to the top, picking and picking. She brings the apples in and lines them up along the counter, counting them each time. Now she says there are one hundred and one apples on the counter.

Later we are going to sew. The church, in an alarming and graceful fit of generosity gave me a fine new Brother Sewing Machine (XL5500) and some cash to go with it. And there was cake (a large portion of which we brought home) and a song. So thrilling (Thank You!!!!). I came home from church and fussed with the machine for a long while, trying to get it to sew. By nine o’clock I had whipped out the skeletons of Two Tea Cozies and organized spools and pins and scraps into various boxes. I need to go find stuffing for the cozies. I’m thinking about ripping up a pillow, rather than going to the store. I have too many pillows anyway. Its very hard to sit on this money and not rush out and fling it to the far winds on fancy shiny material and pretty thread. But I think it would be better if I knew what I wanted to make first, and if I could make it, and then go buy the material. We shall see how my will holds up.

This has been an historically lucrative birthday. Besides all the apples and the sewing machine I am in the possession of a large blackberry pie (well, I was in the possession of), a creamy single pearl on a delicate chain, a pair of embroidered and healed mosque shoes and a vast array of new clothes that make me look extraordinarily thin. Its a real shame all the festivities have come to a close. And the Olympics are over. Matt mentioned that the Democratic Convention is leaping in to take its place, but I’m pretty sure it will not fill the Olympic Void. I suppose instead I will have to go to bed early, from now on, and get enough rest, and do a reasonable amount of work every day, rather than groping around in a stupor.