How Saturday feels.

Waking up once, when it's still gray. Lightening, but still gray. Sorting out the first-thing calculus, what day it is, what there is to be awake for. Realizing: nothing but the day itself. And sleeping again for another hour, hour and a half. Whatever strange dream has happened in the interim, stepping out of bed to know that it's nothing, that the most pressing concern is breakfast.

Breakfast.

Writing an imitation of a Tomaž Šalamun poem, then adding notes to the thing, the words, that might eventually become a poem, nominally titled "Riding the Metro in Beijing." Adding a couple of lines to a poem, maybe a poem, about cosmology. Talking to the daughter in Scotland who has just purchased a yellow jacket, that miraculously has appeared in the very same Zara where she and I once considered a different yellow jacket, but decided against it and have regretted it ever since. Considering this fine shopping miracle.

Walking very fast for almost two miles, then doing chest presses and pull downs and rows. Listening to Jonsi and Jack White and Brandon Flowers and Ben Folds, and watching Chelsea and Man City play out the final 30 minutes of a match, while doing so.

Showering, then racing across town to watch a grandson play the last basketball game of the season. Chasing a granddaughter around, giving her fruit snacks and drawing her a frog and a dancing girl.

Coming home, taking a little nap.

Going to a party, chatting and laughing and celebrating and eating with friends.

Walking the dog under a cold, clear sky.

In the rain.

Happy surprise: the farmer's market today, early in October, was full of wonderful food, with plenty of stuff I would have thought would be gone by now, including loads of tomatoes, still, peaches, some plums, melons . . . we came home laden when I thought we'd be stocking up for the winter with sober potatoes and pumpkins. Not that there would be anything wrong with that--but peaches! in October!

The market was thinner today, what with the rain, which was all right by us--fewer people to elbow out of the way (kidding!). We picked up our share from the farmers, then made our regular beat. We got tomatoes, squash, filet beans, an adorable French dessert melon (Charentais), and lettuce from the Tremonton farmers, bread from the Crumb Bros., a gorgeous red Buttercup squash from crazy David at the T where the main drag hits Coffee/Great Harvest/Ethiopian Ladies Street. Peaches from these new (to us) Santaquin people. Asian pears, which is a highlight of the season for us, from these people who appear mysteriously late in the fall for only two or three weeks, with the best Asian pears you ever tasted priced ridiculously low. I feel so fortunate not to have missed them! And then cherries--a bucket of frozen pitted ones and a good-sized bag of dried ones, from the guy who believes sour cherries can cure what ails you.

I think today might be the first day I really felt like myself again after the trip. Here are the reasons it is good to be home: baby Will, Deacon, my son and daughter and their spouses, Carter, Alex, David, Jenna, Rachel, and Eden, the historian's kids, Bruiser, the chance to sink into a creative rhythm, unlimited internet access, my friends and family, and definitely, definitely the farmer's market. Two more weeks!