Walking in the fields at the Farm with a cloth bag of fresh-harvested food on my back; the gorgeous, vaginal, flesh-colored squash blossoms hiding amongst dappled leaves.
An afternoon bath with my son; shampooing his hair. His skin is ruddy brown and his hair is every color of honey, yellow, sand and sun. The white lather is fragrant and runs down his back. His neck and head rest in my hands like a beloved, heavy cantelope; the house is quiet save for the sounds of water.
The cool smell of fresh quilts and blankets; my daughter and I read in bed until we can no longer keep our eyes open. She turns off the light and folds into my arms.