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Pleasant drive this afternoon in Amish country. Ate a picnic lunch of pastry at Pleasant View Bakery while a flock of barefoot young Amish kids swung and climbed unsupervised on playground equipment nearby. One girl briefly cried; no one died. Celeste made friends with an Amish dog but did not share her lunch with him.
On the way back home we visited Dad at the farm. I dressed a wound. Then Celeste gave Dad detailed instructions for cooking chicken in a covered fry pan, a task he has found daunting on several recent attempts without guidance. Later he reported success. “A little dry,” he said. “But good.”
Sleep well.
Love, Dave
♦
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