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looking southwest at the farm saturday night campfirehappy babe food and song  young musician saturday evening

Green.  It’s suddenly rolling across the fields and bursting out of the trees.  This morning as I stepped out into the sunshine, my whole body felt happier.
“I know it’s not summer summer yet, but it feels so good!”  I said to Edge.

“You can say it’s summer.  If you say it’s summer now, it lasts that much longer,” he replied, and so I turned my face up to the sun and smiled.

Last night we had dinner around a campfire: roast chicken and ramps, a salad of baby kale, chard, pea shoots and wild spring beauties, plus local bread and cream cheese with rhubarb chutney made by our friend Mary’s family, and a spattering of cider and homebrews.  Dinner ended with homemade (gluten-free) apple pie and ice cream, and as the sun set over the Worcester Range, Edge and Jeremiah took out the mandolin and fiddle and played into the night.

A fitting start to summer, indeed.

Cool nights still linger, but I’m calling it summer now.  The winter was long enough, and I’m ready for the season of campfires and song.