Grey day, second one, but yesterday I went out for a bike ride, up Alpine , over to the Portola Valley Farmer’s Market, where I stopped to chat with my bread baker, who makes better bread than Poilane in Paris, which is saying something, plus she delivers it warm to my doorstep, and no one has stolen it yet (though if they knew…), then back down Sand Hill Road to Palo Alto. It was cold! Fortunately I had a warm jacket, which I kept on even during the uphill parts on the way down (if you see what I mean). Felt good.
Meeting old friends who now live in Minnesota for dinner downtown tonight. Tomorrow, another bike ride, perhaps. Monday we are off to Utah for three days.
Still reading the Levi-Strauss biography, plus a poet, Nick Laird, plus Tabucchi, the Italian, plus a little Borges, plus…lots of news—so much it’s hard to keep up with. Thank heaven for Tian’s bread and broccoli soup and the red tree whose name I don’t know, still clinging to its leaves outside the window.