Wednesday, June 19, 2013


There is something magical about the afternoon light.  

The way it dips down, but not too low, and illuminates everything just so.  Afternoon light brushes up against faces in a way that makes us all look good, romantic even.  And that warm peachy glow casts the most interesting shadows.  Perhaps morning light is a playful skip.  While, afternoon light is a mosey.

Three of our afternoons this week involved a bounty of food, picnic tables, salt of the earth people, and fascinating stories about family, rental car crime, building houses, and Space Camp (apparently they have adult programs!  Time to make that bucket list.).

Sunday, we stuffed our bellies with fresh-caught crappie, homemade onion rings, and two kinds of pie.  Al and Marge go big with their fish fries.  Not sure how they always look so cool, though.  I'd be sweating buckets if left in charge of the fryer.

Bruce & Al.  Al was sporting a sweet 'stache, and those smiles!  You can see his handiwork off to the side.  This was only a portion of the fish he caught, cleaned, battered, fried and served.  Always with that smile.

Patty sent me this picture via text an hour before we left for their house.
It shortened our drive time by 15 minutes.

Patty's pies are dreamy.  This was the boysenberry that followed the peach (I had generous servings of both).  

Monday, we had Dan and Rachel over for dinner.  

It was one of our music nights, recording songs for our EP, and preparing for a fundraiser we're performing at on Saturday.  Even though it stormed something fierce earlier in the day (whipping wind, angry sky), the rain stopped long enough for hubby to barbecue chicken and sweet corn.  I made baked beans with maple syrup and brown sugar on the stove, red skin potato salad, and a medley of sliced pears, plums, and nectarines.

Then yesterday, we joined a dozen other couples for a potluck at The Old Mill.  It was mostly grey-haired folk with a splash of youth (youth = the two teenagers (grandchildren of our hosts) who told me about Space Camp - they've both been twice!).  I am fond of people that much older than me, especially when they have wisdom and life stories to share.  I'm a captive audience.  And their faces are really lovely to watch.  I am drawn to the way their brows express, and how the lines on their cheeks and around their eyes tell a narrative.  

I catch myself staring all the time.  

My apologies.

The main house.

Sarah's Long Arm quilting machines.

Country potluckin'.

Read more about The Old Mill's history here.

Part of the pond, as seen through a mill window.

Beauty found in a rusted door.

An invitation.

Norm and Sarah Bistline own The Old Mill, where they make their famous buckwheat flour for the pancake feed every year.  The mill and main property date back as far as the mid-1800s.  It's a legacy that almost died, until the Bistlines stepped in and did a major restoration.  Norm's latest (on-going) project is building a water wheel next to the mill.  Sarah has a huge quilting studio on the top floor of the main house, and has won awards for her craft.  I'm learning about Long Arm quilting machines.  She has two!

Afternoon delights. 

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