Fall

Peter is off to the mountains for two days, so I get my taste of being a single mama. I much prefer being a married mama. After school I rushed to meet a colleague who told me he thought my class was out of control and I was in danger of losing my job (in the same breath he said he thought the kids in my class were completely worthless, not worth my effort, and incapable of behaving... he was their teacher last year). Then I rushed to pick of both kids, who had been in daycare for nine hours. Then I rushed to pick up a pizza (driving by Sarah Palin on Main Street on the way). Then I rushed to pick up our farm share. Then I rushed to the orchard. Ah, the orchard on Carter Hill. Where troubles disappear like migratory hawks. Where our moods mellow with the evening sky. The trees were aflame, golden and magical in the evening light, which came too soon, welcomed only because of the rising full moon which ushered us home. The kids were as golden as the light, helpful and cheerful, missing Peter but knowing they needed to help out mama, who seemed a bit tired, to say the least.