On Grief and Grieving - August 2026 Continued

August 19, 2026

Morning Watch, Wildlife, Dinner, and Evening Reflection

The day began at 6:38 AM with the first cup of coffee and a familiar trip to the patio doors to assess the morning. The temperature was a cool 61°, humidity was high at 92%, and a light southwest breeze of about 4 mph was moving through the yard. There was considerable cloud cover, though enough breaks were appearing to suggest that the morning might still produce something worthwhile.

By about 6:41 AM, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and some color was developing in the eastern sky. As is so often the case, the morning became a matter of waiting to see just how far the old haymaker could push through the clouds.

The forecast was calling for some afternoon rain, not necessarily a major event, but perhaps enough to interfere with plans for dinner on the deck later in the day.

The wildlife apparently had other plans for the morning, because activity around the property was considerably greater than usual. Several deer appeared, wild turkeys were moving through the area, and the squirrels were carrying on with their usual enthusiasm.

That activity brought back an especially memorable sight from the previous evening. While talking on the telephone with my daughter, I spotted a doe beneath the oak tree toward the back of the property.

Knowing there were likely others nearby, I began scanning the area and eventually noticed something I could not remember ever seeing quite like this before: a spotted fawn lying peacefully in the grass near my neighbor's house.

The little one was probably 250 to 300 yards away, yet clearly visible because it had chosen a completely open patch of lawn. What made the scene so remarkable was how extraordinarily still it remained. For perhaps 30 to 45 minutes, throughout virtually the entire telephone conversation, the fawn hardly moved at all other than occasionally turning its head and ears.

I began thinking that if it remained there after our conversation ended, I would go inside, retrieve the Nikon DSLR, and try for some much better photographs.

Naturally, the moment the telephone call ended and I looked back toward the spot, the little rascal had disappeared. Fortunately, the iPhone photographs still captured it remarkably well, comfortably tucked into the grass with its spots clearly visible.

At around 8:00 am I decided to devote a bit of time to repairing the recently damaged deck table umbrella.

The repair looks like a success to me.

The umbrella is sitting open properly, the canopy looks reasonably taut, and nothing about it immediately says, “I recently attempted to escape the property in a Mary Poppins impersonation.”

And there’s something particularly satisfying about having beaten that thing into submission with nothing more sophisticated than a needle and thread, especially after the little handheld sewing machine I recently purchased proved to be more useful for expanding my vocabulary than repairing the umbrella. An hour of threading, poking, probing, rethreading, and convincing aging eyes to cooperate was probably more aggravation than the job was worth financially, but that really wasn’t the point.

I already had a replacement sitting in the garage. I simply saw no reason to throw away something that could still be made serviceable. Now the old umbrella gets another season, or however long the Western Pennsylvania winds decide to permit, and the new one stays safely in reserve.

By 8:46, the old haymaker was certainly making up for the questionable start to the morning. That deck was absolutely flooded with sunshine at that point of the morning.

The repaired umbrella may have picked exactly the right morning to return to active duty.

Shortly after finishing the umbrella repair my friend Bob from Greensburg called to ask if he could stop by and borrow my pressure washer. I told him he was more than welcome to and then asked what time he had in mind, because I had to go to the market to pick up some gluten free flour and corn meal. He ended up stopping by around 3:00 pm to pick it up and after a brief bit of chit chat he was on his way home. I didn't let him leave with just the pressure washer though. I also packed up a couple of the shortbread dessert cups, some lemon curd, and some fruit and berry medley to take home for him and his wife to share later today.

Preparing for Dinner

A good portion of the day was devoted to preparing for the dinner I had planned with my daughter, son-in-law, and Neal.

One consideration throughout the menu was accommodating my son-in-law's gluten-free diet. Among today's cooking discussions was the question of what to do with some of the zucchini I had available. I considering fried zucchini planks, but wanted both a gluten-free coating and a way of preventing the zucchini from becoming limp shortly after frying.

My thoughts centered on removing excess moisture from the zucchini before breading and using crisp gluten-free alternatives rather than conventional flour and breadcrumbs. The concern wasn't simply making something technically gluten-free, it was making something everyone at the table could enjoy without the finished product becoming soggy.

That fit into the larger pattern of preparation I had already been working through for this meal: adapting recipes where necessary while still serving essentially the same food to everyone rather than making my son-in-law feel as though he was eating a completely separate menu.

The timing of dinner also worked out better than originally expected. I had believed today was the first day of school for students, but discovered that students do not return until next week. Today was instead the first day back for teachers and staff.

Since both my son-in-law and Neal teach in the Norwin School District, that made it possible for everyone to arrive considerably earlier than anticipated. Rather than the original 5:00-ish dinner, everyone was able to gather at approximately 4:00 PM.

That proved especially fortunate because Neal had another commitment later and needed to leave at around 5:30 PM. The earlier meal gave him plenty of time to eat comfortably, participate in the conversation, and offer his usual contribution to the discussions without anyone feeling rushed.

Dinner on the Deck

Despite the morning uncertainty about the weather and the possibility of rain, the deck won after all.

The photographs show the table surrounded by family and friend, with plates of fresh garden tomato , basil, garlic and olive oil sauce, salad, bread, drinks, and some chicken thighs dipped in seasoned gluten free flour, then dipped in a n egg and buttermilk wash, then finished in gluten free seasoned panko. The atmosphere was wonderfully informal, all of us eating, talking, and lingering at the table rather than treating dinner as something simply to get through.

Most importantly, the meal went exactly as planned and everyone was pleased with the menu.

The dessert experiment from the preceding days also made its appearance: the gluten-free shortbread-style cups filled with lemon curd and fresh fruit and berries.

After all the testing, improvising, and adapting that went into those, seeing them actually being eaten at the table made the experimenting worthwhile.

There was clearly a good deal of thought, preparation, and attention to detail involved in making tonight happen. Once it was over, however, I felt that the effort had been more than justified.

7:15 PM — Back to the Evening Watch

By 7:15 PM, everyone had gone home and I finally made my way back outside to the deck with what was my final cup of coffee for the day.

The work was finished.

The kitchen was cleaned, leftovers had either been put away or sent home with people, and everything that needed to be returned to order appeared to be where it belonged.

The sun had almost disappeared, but the evening sky was still inviting.

Clouds remained overhead, yet the temperature and humidity had dropped and the breeze had picked up somewhat, leaving me sitting comfortably at the table, and in no particular hurry to go inside.

That quiet period after dinner brought with it another kind of reflection.

For a few moments I reflected on just how much work had gone into preparing the meal, but also how worthwhile that work became when there are people around the table. Spending so much time alone these days has changed the value of occasions like this. Having people nearby, talking, laughing, discussing things, eating something I've made, has increasingly become one of the highlights of a day.

And then, almost suddenly, the house and deck become quiet again.

Everyone left to return to whatever it is they needed to do, and I found myself once again sitting alone in the evening solitude.

I wondered whether I was gradually becoming accustomed to that solitude. Perhaps I am. But evenings like this one seem to make that adjustment a little easier.

The day began with uncertainty beneath a cloud-filled eastern sky, wondering what the weather would allow and what sort of day lay ahead.

It ended with dinner successfully served outdoors after all, family and a friend gathered around my table, everyone well fed, the kitchen cleaned, and me once again seated quietly on the deck, as Wednesday gradually gave way to evening.

All things considered, that made all the preparation worthwhile.