fruit from the backyard
the bounty of our backyard astounds me.
Sometimes, when I'm holding the baby on the couch, I look out the laundry room window and dream of the days I used to walk back there without thinking.
Some days, I don't roam.
Most days, however, I plop her in the carrier, strapped to my body, and wander the gardens, slowly. I can't pick much fruit -- it's hard to carry her and big baskets -- but a bowl full of apples, Asian pears, and Italian plums is plenty enough to make me feel full.