It’s extraordinary, really, how much beauty there is in the course of an ordinary week. Here are some things I found on my camera from this week, one I don’t think I’d remember as being so lovely, but for the evidence of so many tiny moments of happiness.
Naturally, I made lunches out of that bread.
And we celebrated. My husband’s 47th birthday, for which chocolate was the only acceptable gift. From Bittersweet, a nice shop dedicated to exotic, interesting, very chocolate-y chocolate. Yes, dear reader, I led him into temptation.
We also celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary. (That’s us, in the tiny wedding picture. On the bales of hay? My mother and her sister, in 1934. Behind her, my husband’s mother when she was a little girl.) The flowers came from the farmer’s market we went to on Sunday. They’re a wonderful autumn color, I thought.
We went on a hike one evening after work and looked out across the bay toward San Francisco. It became dark very quickly. You can tell fall’s approaching. There are other signs of fall in the leaves on a few of the trees in our neighborhood, but mostly, fall makes itself known by the changes in the air and the light.
On Wednesdays, in the plaza I cross to get to my office, there’s a farmer’s market. There are still berries to be had, even though it’s October.
Thursday, I got my hair cut in Union Square, sort of ground zero for the cable car line. I never notice them, except today when I heard this one coming down the hill behind me, its bell being rung by an enthusiastic conductor.
I also went to a wonderful exhibit of quilts by the women of Gee’s Bend, Alabama. And that’s what I’m going to write about this weekend, if I have time. Quilts and race. But this morning, I just want to record that our daily bread, what we never notice about where we live and how we go about our lives, is something for which I’m very grateful.