I lolled in bed a bit this morning, and felt great. And when I finally hoisted myself out from under the comforter, I saw that we got a little rain last night, which also feels great. The soil has gotten very dry in the past couple of weeks, so I'm back to daily watering, not something I'm enthusiastic about doing this late in the growing season. But I want to keep my harvest alive.

Yesterday T spent the morning in the kitchen, installing the wooden cabinet dividers he'd built for two cupboards. This addition essentially doubled the cupboards' storage capacity, so all of a sudden my little kitchen is overflowing with spaciousness. It's quite impressive: how compactly T designed the room yet how much it actually holds. He sure is good at his job.

Meanwhile, I harvested my carrot crop, which was sizable; harvested the mature fennel, also sizable; washed them all up and stored them in boxes in the refrigerator. I froze a quart of green beans, picked chard and beet greens to sauté for the evening's quiche, deadheaded flowers and pulled out the disintegrating dill plants. This morning I'll cut a bushel or so of kale and blanch it for the freezer. Then in the afternoon we'll wander out to the neighborhood music festival, maybe I'll check in on the Bills' game, maybe I'll curl up on the couch with my book . . . Sausage and peppers for dinner tonight--I've got so many peppers on my plants. It's been a beautiful year for the garden.

A slow Sunday in September, at home with my beloved, here on our tiny homestead, in our little northern city by the sea. At the moment I have nothing to wish for. For the moment's it's all come true.