I’ve just had a perfect Saturday morning.
Evan slept in until 7:30, and woke me by cooing happily in his crib. He waited patiently while I got out of bed and dressed, occupying himself (a new and fabulous skill, self-occupation). After his morning tasters, we headed to the farmers’ market as the mist lifted from the bay.
Wearing his favourite plaid shorts and carrying his green squishy frog, Evan giggled at everyone we met.
When we got to the famed french breadmakers, they hadn’t yet run out of croissants and brioche. The fiddler played while we discovered garlic scapes, to make pesto later today. We found organic local kale, and a huge bunch of basil, and the most lovely, tiny turnips with enormous tasty greens. I even indulged in a long bouquet of meadow flowers (my dad would scoff at that since it includes goldenrod, the bane of his existence as a gardener, but it’s perfectly maritime and earns its place).
Home we went, chatting to folks along the way.
Even in summer, our woodstove gives off a faint smoky, woodsy scent that makes me love opening the front door (daydreaming in Vancouver, it's how I always hoped our house would smell). Evan had his second breakfast and I put him in his crib, where he fussed a bit but then fell asleep for his nap.
This is a new thing – with Justin away on Briar Island working at the Coast Guard lifeboat station there, I’ve decided to start letting Evan cry a bit so that he learns to fall asleep on his own. I don’t feel the gut-wracking guilt that some people talk of, listening to their baby cry – it doesn’t last long and I know he’s fine (being engrossed in the new Harry Potter book helps too).
As Evan napped, I made a huge omelette with garlic and local portobello mushrooms, and two steaming mugs of murchie’s tea. The sun is shining through the window, and the waves are crashing on the shore in front of the house. Later we’ll go to the beach and bring Evan’s wee boat, and go for a dip in St. Margaret’s Bay.
I don’t take mornings like this for granted anymore. With a baby, you appreciate them for what they are – gifts.
I am calm, unhurried, content. Evan seems to feel the same. I’m not dwelling on overdue power bills, credit card debt. I’m just happy to have fresh flowers in the house.