Last Sunday we headed south to Dorset for the weekly farmer’s market. For us: Pascal’s gourmet sausages, Swiss chard, and purple-and-white-striped beans. For Chuck and David, to be called on after: sweet Sun Gold cherry tomatoes and a bouquet of zinnias mixed red, yellow, fuchsia, purple.
We bumped into neighbors and made plans for the sharing of food and drink. The sky was breezy bright blue.
And then, the loud honking, and right over our heads, low-flying Canada geese—a vee of twenty or so, the sun somehow bouncing off their bellies with the flap up of wings—heading farther south than the Dorset Sunday farmer’s market. Probably much farther south.
No, not yet, I whispered. Then, bon voyage.