Journal

Notes & entries

Two weeks by the water

The cabin was smaller than the photos suggested and the lake was colder than anyone promised, and it was the best fortnight of the year.

Three summers of failure and then, suddenly, more tomatoes than four people could reasonably eat.

Eleven steps between the couch and the coffee table, then a triumphant collapse. We have too much video.

One hundred and eight bells at midnight, a very cold temple courtyard, and the best bowl of soba any of us can remember.

What began as a single raised bed became, over a strange quiet year, a small farm.

A small ceremony under the plum tree, forty guests, and rain that held off until exactly the right moment.