Scene: Harriet�s kitchen, 3:45 p.m.

Harriet: Come on, AJ! It�s time to go catch our train to the farmer�s market!
AJ: (bounding down the stairs) Oh boy! I�m so excited! I�m so excited because my future is turning to happiness!
Harriet: Because your future is turning to happiness? Is that what you said?
AJ: Yes. Because my future is turning to happiness.
Harriet: Because you�re about to go on a train?
AJ: Yes.
Harriet: Okay, then. That�s very poetic of you.
AJ: Thank you.

* * * * *

I didn�t know it was possible for a small boy to get so excited about a ten minute train ride. The weekly farmers� market that we like to frequent is two towns over. Because the market is held in a parking lot by the train station, we�ve taken to driving to our local train station and riding the train two stops. There is a train back 50 minutes later, which gives us enough time to do our shopping and take a stroll around town.

I�ve always loved farmers� markets. When we lived downtown, we did most of our summer and fall grocery shopping at the humongous farmers� market in Daley Plaza a couple of blocks away. Since moving out here, we are surrounded by farms but have a strange dearth of decent produce.

The farmers� market we attend is teeny � about ten tables or so, but they have everything you need. The thing that both AJ and I enjoy is the real sense of community that grows there. It�s a gathering place. We go every week, so the vendors know us now and knows what AJ does and doesn�t like. The cheese vendor jokes with AJ who always dramatically holds his nose as he walks by the colorful wheels of smelly cheeses. The popcorn vendor hands AJ a cup of freshly made kettle corn. All commerce stops when the trains go by a few feet behind the tables, shaking the merchandise with their earthquake-generating whistles. AJ tries to cover his ears and wave at the engineer at the same time, because he knows the engineer will wave back.

* * * * *

Today we are trying to decide whether or not to take another train ride, this time into the city for an anniversary afternoon with AJ. [And thanks to all who sent your anniversary wishes!] It�s supposed to be a beautiful day and we are thinking of meandering around Millennium Park, riding a water taxi and taking in an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants (although which one has yet to be determined). However, AJ seems to be coming down with a cold. We doctored him up for picture day at school this morning, but we�ve decided to put the plans on hold until we see how much stamina he has left after being photographed repeatedly. In any case, our anniversary is likely to be low-key, the way we like it. We exchanged homemade cards this morning and I burned a CD for my husband, who chastised me for violating the no gifts rule. I pointed out that we had actually agreed not to BUY each other gifts � we had never discussed the homemade option.

* * * * *

I went for a run down to the river around 7. The sun was just above the trees at the end of the pasture. As I ran across the baseball field, the rays were glinting off the dew coating every blade of glass. It looked like I was crossing a field of emeralds. When I got down to the pier I stopped to watch a herd of deer on the far side of the river. They were wading at the water�s edge, dipping their heads down to the water, then arching their necks back to swallow. The two smallest frolicked in the water like children, splashing each other with their noses and hind feet. After they disappeared into the underbrush, I began the long, uphill run home past the all�e of maples, still mostly green, but spotted red hear and there. At the foot of the largest pond, I stopped again to stare up at the bright yellow tree where a flock of red-winged blackbirds were perched, their red patches looking particularly vibrant when backlit through the yellow leaves. Further up the road, I startled a fishing heron out of the brush � he was maybe two feet away. I love my neighborhood.

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