Here in Middle Tennessee we're experiencing Longfellow's bright September morn so there's an unsettled feeling from it being so very normal here while on the Carolina coast it's far from ordinary.
Is that why these ordinary September days seem such a gift?
Yesterday morning I went out to our garden to collect tomatoes and two kinds of peppers for the night's salad and a handful of parsley.
BreeBree and James Mason went with me, the garden their playground, their favorite game hiding from mama's camera, not counting chasing chipmunks and gifting me with dead moles.
We came back inside and did all the ordinary things we usually do, no surprises, nothing that would normally be exciting. We just went about our business taking care of the house and each other.
I put chicken on to poach, the basis for tonight's chicken chili but some reserved for last night's supper of chicken sandwiches.
I made the beds and put the washing machine and dishwasher through their paces and sat down to pay bills and then do some typing, the kids napping between trips outside to go potty.
And so our day went.
RH came home and watered the garden and we sat down to supper and our next episode of West Wing on Netflix.
Chicken sandwiches with tomato slices and red bell pepper and the salad we have about every third night during the summer, of Ismail Merchant's chili tomato salad, recipe here, scallions added to his recipe.
Keeping us company was a little person our granddaughters left behind last weekend.
I'm hoping they will come back soon to collect her.
The Gourmet cookbooks were a gift from my firstborn and the fennel green Le Creuset Dutch oven, a Mother's Day gift long ago from my children, is on the table to remind me to find out where I can send it to be repaired.
I turned it on one day and forgot to add the olive oil to sauté vegetables for soup and suddenly heard popping sounds, tiny flecks of enamel popping loose.
We watched a beautiful sunset as we ate supper and watched a Christmas episode on West Wing.
Stripes of pink and blue sky grew more vivid while we ate.
It was just an ordinary day.