we found ourselves in a little deli an hour from home. with expensive, tiny sandwiches that were about the best thing i've ever tasted (it's a good thing i don't let myself wander into places like this too much. i'm a guppie for organic, delicious fare and am easily duped into giving my right arm for a tiny slice of something labeled "free range.")
we sat on old rocking chairs and ate homemade ice cream, overlooking a pretty dairy farm run by an old man in overalls. i decided right then and there that this man was living my dream.
then, we nestled ourselves indoors the rest of the time. where the chill was blasting through the floor like ice and we could lay against the hardwoods and let it blow our hair around. we made squash fritters and mini pizzas.
and the sun rose and set, and like that the weekend was over. it marched out on the heels of a wet, dark rainstorm that happened last night. cooling down the blistering pavement and quenching the yellowing, dying garden. and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief.