Raise the song of harvest home...
Except while driving through that stretch of I-94 in Racine. (At that point, hold your breath.) I had forgotten how aromatic the fields are after the cabbage harvest. That peculiar sensation was the only negative moment in a lovely trip to Milwaukee.

Some of my high school girlfriends have decided to get together every 6 months or so. I missed the last 2 lunches, so this was a priority.

I missed my turn-off (the highway construction was worse, not better, since we went up to the Milwaukee Public Museum in April) and I spent the slow leg of the journey, cutting across town on North Ave., worrying that I might walk into the restaurant and not recognize my group. That was not a problem. There have been a lot of changes over the decades (the Uptown Theater where we saw Springsteen in ‘76 was gone!) but the girls were the same. And I mean that in a good way. (I’ve heard it said that to tell people they haven’t changed a bit is not really a compliment.)

The time flew by. And we decided to get together again in April. The scary part is that April will be here before we know it. Back at work today, I jumped into a bunch of the pre-Advent stuff. And as soon as Christmas has come we’ll start thinking about Lent and then April will be here. (Time does seem to be accelerating. And working in a church, where we are always thinking ahead, makes me feel like I am on some sort of demented “time carousel.” Or maybe more like an “Octopus,” since I try to keep part of my soul in the present while plotting a season ahead. Or would that be a “Tilt-a-Whirl?”)