Where do fireflies go in the daytime?

We slept five to a bed last night, all bundled in like farm fed sardines, one of us slowly sinking into the little nook that was gouged out between the shoved together mattresses. In the morning Emilee was first to rise, followed quickly by Hailey. I think Ben was a slow third, while Mark, Seth, and myself rode out the morning until the last minute, scraping ourselves out of the blankets to finally join the others in morning time chatter and plate clinking.

Our first task was a quick trip down to the garden for some early morning watering. When that was done, the six of us and Brenda (Hailey's mother - lovely lady) drove down to Little Rock to check out the farmer's market. It was a tiny little thing, only twenty booths or so. Apparently they are an offshoot of the larger farmer's market on the other side of town. They are the purists. The larger farmer's market is engaging in bad practices - selling things from Costco as locally grown organic - that sort of nonsense. This summer we will be a part of this small, but growing, offshoot. We'll be slingin' guns with the good guys, so to speak.

After a slow and easy lunch at the market across the street (something like a local grocery store meets a deli meets a cafe meets a gas station), we walked around the booths some more. Picked up a few lotions, candles, and such. Hailey and Brenda had already selected veggies and a pork shoulder for the meal tonight. I like how people use language. Pork shoulder is a yummy dish. A pig's shoulder is a functioning body part of that little hog running around the farm, something you might pat in good spirits. I'm thinking of so many "did you knows" right now, but that's neither here nor there.

A few blocks away from the farmer's market we found an absolute treasure of a store. An old vintage, antique sort of deal with furniture, clothing, food, toys, books, shoes, you name it. I think almost all of us picked up a little something to take home with us. It was a nice afternoon.

On our way home we stopped again at an antique store on the side of the road. It was an old house with little sentimental things in all of the rooms, the garage, and literally littering the front yard. We each picked out a chair that signifies ourselves. We'll be using them later, for our round table. Well, Seth didn't pick one. That's good. He doesn't settle. He'll have the best one, I'll bet you a dollar.

After the chairs we all came back to the farm. We went searching in the woods for broken glass and found a lot of really pretty little pieces of blue, brown, and clear. We took some pictures out in the field, met some friends along the road - Pat and Dan - and finally made it back to do a quick tick check and wash-off-any-potential-poison-ivy bath in the garage. Seth, Ben, Emilee, and I shot some hoops. Ben'll kill ya.

Mark is doing interviews tonight out on the front lawn. A lot of questions about hopes and fears. I don't really have hopes and fears. Because I'm an alien. Instead I just know things. Like I know that whatever happens - this project will be good. For all of us.

It's evening now. We're sharing space with each other. The space in the house is dark with shots of fading light from the windows. Little lanterns in the wall. Seth sits and writes. Emilee sits and draws. Hailey flits about, freshly clean from the shower.

It's a good night.