Jelly. You know what I want? Chokecherry jelly. Dark and tannic and sweet, like a wine that speaks of the open prairie, the hot sun, the shade of the elm trees under which the brambles grow, instead of some stupid vinyard in California.
Dag Nabbit. First, it rained and fogged all weekend. I had been planning to take Ray to the Balloon Classic, which runs for three days over Labor Day weekend in the Springs. Nope. For the first time in twenty-seven years, no balloons made it up. Second, Dale was going to come out next weekend before