Wow, I just took a bite of ginger. Spicey batch! The hot Cambric tea I drank after made it extra spicy. A Cambric tea is one made with hot water, milk, and sugar, and is something of a misnomer for what I am drinking, though not entirely. The tea I most often order is a Rooibos tea latte with soy and whip cream, which contains all the elements of the above, but is less basic. I really like it! Cambric tea is also described as a drink for children.

Got the couch and coffee table in the homestead last night. The man I spoke with about the mattress showed up in a pickup truck with two cronies, and the mattress was not the one in the picture, but a small, stained one that looked as though he got it in an alley after it had been discarded. I realized they were running some sort of racket, and I told them I just couldn’t take it. They were nice about it and offered to go back to “the warehouse” and get a different one, but that it would cost more. Pffft. Please.

Rode my bike to St. Mark’s, read The Orchid Thief. A few passages I liked:

“Oh, mystery, beauty, unknowability, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “Besides, I think the real reason is that life has no meaning. No obvious meaning.” – As to why collectors obsess so heavily over orchids.

“I suppose I do have one unembarrassing passion–I want to know what it feels like to care about something passionately.”

“His life seemed to be filled with things that were just like the ghost orchid–wonderful to imagine and easy to fall in love with but a little fantastic and fleeting and out of reach.”

Fantastic and fleeting and out of reach…

Stopped by Lost Lake for a drink with some kiddos. We got a little photo booth crazy, and it ate our photos again, I fear. Bike ride home was wonderful in the most perfect of summer nights. Blue black velvet firmament rife with twinkling white stars (the word firmament has the most wonderful definition: the vault of heaven; sky). Riding through Cheeseman Park and feeling the wind on my face, the expansiveness of the land, and the rumor of unsettled spirits made the whole thing feel very magical, somehow nostalgic. It is said that Cheeseman Park is built on an old burial ground, I believe, is the story.

An alley that looked very pretty under moonlight and streetlamp:

Another wonderful word, amaranthine: unfading, everlasting

To find a love like amaranth or perhaps a love amaranthine in character or quality.

Lots to do. Lots on the brain.