Unknown:

Remembered, this weekend, how every so often there is a bounty afflicting our lives, called Summer—it seems to occur about once every two years—and the stores are flush with cherries, and heirloom tomatoes appear, and the air warms over and over and for a day or two you have nothing to do but what needs to be done and even the Internet is an egregious superfluity.

Got cherries and coffee at the store; wrote emails and vacuumed and organized the room and scanned photos and picked through recipes. Noticed how much of my life, normally, is given over to hunting some kind of insight, some enlightenment. Whatever happened to "Chop wood, carry water"?

Tonight, done chopping the water, I'm reading "Simon's Luck" by Alice Munro. She keeps one on one's toes, and yet it's like being at home, being with someone you trust.