Saturday

Oliver is reluctantly practicing his violin. We sent him to Molly's room to avoid being pulled into the drama. Now all we hear are the pretty sounds of the instrument. Molly is busy, with a little apron on, tidying up. She's covered the coffee table with a beautiful , albeit wrinkled, pink silk and picked a bouquet of fresh flowers to fill a small vase set in the center. We're contemplating a bike ride to the market and at some point need to do some weeding in the big garden with my aunt Denise. Our poor little beets are being choked out by poppies that want to blanket the beds. I can't help thinking how beautiful that would be. A field of poppies. Oh, and then there's laundry. There is always laundry.