Monday morning, bright and wet after a Sunday of steady rain. The house is very quiet--children away, living their own lives for a few weeks, and Tom outside, packing his truck for work.

Despite my residual bone-weariness, the two of us have spent a sweet, companionable weekend together. On Saturday we cooked outside on the new brick firepit Tom has just built, and then we set up a card table next to it, with a blue-checked tablecloth and a pair of red candles that wouldn't stay lit, and we ate hamburgers and roasted onions and roasted asparagus in the twilight. Last night, we discussed living-room renovations and imagined owning a couch without giant holes in it. Then we ate tuna steaks and farro topped with fried sage. As you can see, food is a regular feature of our honeymoons. And one other nice thing? Tom asked me if I'd like to sign up for an afternoon fresco workshop with him. Neither of us knows anything about making frescos, and it will be lovely to be mutually ignorant.

Two decades spent tag-teaming with children, and now we have six weeks to pay attention to each other. Forgive our giddiness.