A short walk to the Farmer's Market.
Booths of okra and sourdough bowl bread and carnival peppers for the taking.
By way of the Episcopal Church.
All historical and stained glass with rosemary bushes to pluck from for a meal later in the day.
Then sparkling champagne and fizzy water.
Sipped from mason jars and bubbling at the throat.
Nibbling on homemade oatmeal and walnut cookies.
As I settled on the couch against a plethora of pillows.
To watch a handful of Jane Austen movies.
In between chapters of The Forgotten Fables.
This was my Sunday.
And a girl can do a lot worse for herself.