A couple days ago, a deluge churned through Virginia. Big, fat drops fell for hours, filling the day and then the night with the sounds and smells of a soaking spring rain.
Just before the storm moved in, I drove to the store to supplement the sparse offerings at the weekend farmer’s market. My white car was faintly yellow from a thin layer of fluffy pollen. The windshield was covered too, but since it’s the height of pollen season – a time when huge plumes of pollen billow into the air with each gust of wind – my wipers were out of fluid. I made do with the occasional drops already falling and was thankful to be dealing with such a dirty windshield on a cloudy day. Here in Charlottesville, I head out to the grocery nearly every day. I guess I’ve just never recovered from my morning walks back in Brooklyn and being able to pop in somewhere on the way home. So now I drive, a list tucked into my pocket, hopeful that the place I’ve selected will have pretty beets and tapioca, or whatever odds and ends I need on that particular day. [Read more…]