One day passes like the next, drawn out like thin clouds across the sky, barely moving. Joe and I keep a routine when we’re together - wake early, walk the dogs, work apart, walk the dogs, eat, talk about the day, sleep. Occasionally Joe will wander to the back yard, while I’m picking blackberries, to marvel at the hubbard squash heading south across the lawn. If not for Covid, we might not share these moments and it feels good to have each other’s company. We seem to check on each other more often these days. We count the hubbards, again, hoping they’ll grow large and nubbly, taste sweet and keep well. This winter when we eat them, August will be long gone.