Bedtime. … The air wafting through the porch screens is cool-warm, with the scent of rain. My fingers smell of bruised mint leaves, picked from the herb garden beside the stoop not twenty minutes ago.
The buildings and grounds are constructed in concentric arcs that fit the natural contours of the hill, which slopes toward the great Jasper Lake.
As we left, Lotty and I strung a garland of wild asters and daisies across the door, to be removed only by the bride and groom on the morrow, when they enter to spend their first night in their new home.
Janine has woven the greens, browns, and yellows of the hills, the muted colors of the woods on one side, and the brilliant splotches of the flowering meadows in front. I can smell the rich moldy soil of the woods underfoot and the crisp drying grasses in the summer heat.
The lunch gong sounds. I clean and put away my tools, wash up, and head for the dining room. The teen orchestra are tuning their instruments as I wait in line with Merilee. We will have a concert today!