The Honey Jar Takes Longer Than You Think

May sixth. We went for strawberries and left with strawberries, a bunch of green onions neither of us had a plan for, and, yes, two different jars of honey because the third look didn't resolve anything, it just produced a second opinion.

Simone had flagged the market weeks ago, one of those end-of-session mentions that doesn't come with a commitment attached but that both people quietly file away. Saturday arrived and neither of us said anything until one of us texted the time and that was that. I've been noticing lately that a lot of the things I do with Simone don't require a formal invitation, they just require one of us to name a time.

The box is still on the kitchen shelf. I thought about it this morning before we left, the way you think about something without exactly thinking about it, a peripheral awareness, the kind that doesn't need to be resolved right now. The green onions are on the counter. The honey is open. The box will get another look when it's ready to.

honey jar deliberation, a weekly ritual

We got coffee from the cart at the edge of the market and stood there for a while, not really going anywhere, watching the crowd thin out as it got later and the good strawberries disappeared. It is a specific kind of Saturday morning, the kind that doesn't declare itself a good day, just quietly becomes one.

the debrief at the edge of the market