It's time to get a little random up in here. Pick a song as arbitrarily as you wish, and then make use of its first line as your own. Poetry or prose, credit goes where it's due. You know the drill.
Did a lot of rototilling this morning as we tried to catch up on weeding. Managed to do the paths between our carrots and beets, as well as around our squash plantings, while the girls worked on the onions, shallots, and leeks.
Tomorrow looks like more of the same, as the onion section should be done by early morning and then the hand weeding of the carrots and beets can recommence. I'll be tilling around the tomatoes and zucchini, and maybe by the greens and peas as well. Hoping to be more on top of things by the end of the day, at any rate.
Also tomorrow? My parents are arriving for a brief visit. Really looking forward to Max seeing them again and spending good quality time with his 'other' grandparents.
Budapest by George Ezra
My house in Budapest sat only a short walk from the western bank of the Danube. It was a path my feet travelled more times than I could possibly recall. I would sit and watch the boats glide past, often with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in my hand.
I would go there to be alone with my thoughts, but it was rare the days that they would be my only company. Mira often joined me, usually appearing at my side within minutes of my arrival. Sometimes she would have her own coffee, but mostly she just sipped from mine. She might miss a day here or there, for reasons never explained or questioned, but never two days in a row.
We didn't talk all that much, which was the way I liked it. The less I spoke, the less chance of me saying something stupid or off-putting. I enjoyed her company, despite the constant fear of driving her away. That ought to tell you plenty about how great a gal she was.
Or maybe it just tells you too much about how big an idiot I am.
There was never any agreement to meet there again before we parted ways, it was just understood. I'd show up, then she would. Boats and time would pass, my cup would empty, the day could begin in earnest.
It was just understood. I was convinced of that, you know? How could I have been so certain of something never expressed in words? I never suspected how deeply mistaken I was, how much I had to lose.
Not until the day after she stopped meeting me at the side of the Danube.