My perfect combination is a tennis game followed by sour cream coffee cake from Breezy Acres Farm, in Granby. When I went yesterday, I got a cute little watermelon, broccoli, blueberries, and corn…the flavors of summer. I eyed two cute little mini blueberry pies on the shelf in front of the kitchen and asked if they were taken. Nancy, Evelyn's sister the baker, didn’t know, and Evelyn was outside somewhere. For some reason, though, I thought the person at the register had gotten one for me. When I got home, I looked in my bag and it wasn’t there. I called up and Evelyn said she had just thrown the pies together, they weren't her perfect pies, and I could have one for free.
Tennis was good but I thought I could use a little more exercise. I told Boyfriend that I thought I might bike. He said, "You'll have to get up that hill." By that hill, he meant Cold Hill. In the old days it was a lot of effort but I could do it. A few weeks ago when I tried it I had to get off and walk. Katie reminded me that there was no shame in getting off and walking. Still, I would rather not do it. I don't like teeter-tottering in the easiest gear and stopping to get off; that's when I could fall.
So I had the "brilliant" idea of going up Morgan Street instead. It has a gentler incline. I put on a back pack and off I went. When I got there, Evelyn started to say that I was a little nuts, but she changed it to that I was funny. In any case, I got my pie and went home. First I ate half. Then with about two seconds in between half one and half two, I went back and got the other half.
The little dent at the top of the pie isn't a mistake on Evelyn's part. It's a little nibble that I took out of it while bringing the pie inside.
The other day Katie and I took a walk along the dike through the corn fields off the bike path. I knew of a biking route that goes left off the bike path when coming from Damon Road but not about this walk, which is an earlier left, when coming from the parking lot. We heard loud booms that scared us. It sounded like shots. We couldn't tell where they were coming from. Two women happened to be coming towards us, from the direction of the Connecticut River, where we were going. They looked like another mother and daughter pair.
They said not to worry, these were corn cannons to scare off birds. When I got home, I looked it up and saw that we weren't the only ones who thought they were gun shots. This story describes how a farmer uses these bird cannons, or noise cannons.
When we got down to the river, we sat in the shade, leaned back, and looked at the water. It sure is nice to have her around. Usually when we do things together, we take a photo together, but since we are not in the same bubble, we are sitting further apart, hence the separate photos. We have talked about integrating our bubbles. Hers is larger so it's not a good idea. This is hard but I'm glad we have enough open space to be together apart.