Today begins the fall meeting of the board of trustees for York Place Episcopal Church Home for Children. I left home after an early lunch with Tal -- who, as I was backing the car out of the garage, shouted from the steps "I hope you retire soon!" So helpful. He was smiling, promise.
The drive was lovely. I opted for cutting cross country, Edgefield to Newberry to Winnsboro to Chester to York with lots of named crossroads along the way. Likely not as fast, but so much more interesting than I-20 and I-77. One day, I keep telling myself, I won't be on my way somewhere, won't be in collar and heels. One day I'll poke along, stopping to study things, like rolled hay in still-green fields and late summer weeds along in-need-of-maintenance fences. I probably won't ever do that, but I do enjoy thinking about it.
Following our afternoon sessions, the president of York Place and his wife welcomed us into their home for dinner. Actually, we had cocktails in their beautifully landscaped backyard, moved through a buffet line in the kitchen and dined on the front porch -- which, wrapping two sides of the house, seated 30 at set tables with white linen, candles and locally grown roses. Truly elegant! Tired as I was I hated to move away, knowing it was a very special experience, one none of us has with any regularity.
I'm at the Days Inn on the Rock Hill side of York for the night. I'd forgotten about the clientelle. The sound of diesel trucks will begin early in the morning, workmen getting a pre-dawn start on the day. How hard people have to work isn't enough part of my awareness, sad to say.