The Farm

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A friend invited me to an afternoon Champagne + Lemonade party at “The Farm”, so I threw on some knickers and a gingham blouse, hopped on my bike, and hit the trail along the Thames.  Ten minutes later, I arrived at her community garden plot and an intimate crowd of friends and family celebrating her first radish.  We gathered ’round the only picnic table under the biggest and shadiest tree where we listened to Kishi Bashi, ate pound cake with strawberries, inhaled macarons, laughed, and coloured biggish rocks for “The Farm”.   Two hours later, I was suitably tipsy and more than content, so I hopped right back on my bike and cycled home up two big hills without even having to get off my bike and walk.  I’d call that a success.



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