Now Playing: The Decemberists, "The King Is Dead."

Today has been blissfully peaceful as far as summer days go. I got up to run and listen to a sermon by Pastor D about the beginning of Ephesians 5, loving people. Later on, I had the chance to talk to both my parents, which was good.

This morning I managed to finish a chapter of French before lunch: imperfect, passe anterieur, more faire clauses, and so on. Lisa left for class at about noon. I baked peach scones, cleaned the house a bit while they were in the oven, and then spent the afternoon working on an article about a play for a database. Somehow I managed to finish a rough draft by the time Laura came home from work. She bounced upstairs and sat with me, flipping through pictures from the summer so far.

While I made tea downstairs--chicken, rice, green beans--Lisa sprawled on the sofa, browsing cooking magazines, and Laura sat nearby, strumming hymns on her guitar and singing. We ate together, and then Lisa and I went to Bible study at eight. The women's study this summer is working through Women Counseling Women, a book of essays edited by Elyse Fitzpatrick.

After Bible study I walked home. The evening was perfect, as perfect as a summer evening could be. The wind had changed to be from the northwest in cool gusts; the sky was cloudless; the air was dry and fresh. The sky resonated with deep color, as though it were the undulating silk of a pavilion roof, azure, peach, ochre. Bats zigzagged across it. I talked to Scott on the phone.

Nighttime was actually clear enough to be able to see Cygnus, Casseiopeia, the Big Dipper, and a hint of the Milky Way. Inside, the house smelled like chocolate chips and brownies. Laura had been baking for Mary's party tomorrow. She and I chatted about Les Miserables, which she'd watched while she was cooking, and then I went upstairs.