Hint, hint

Tonight, as Joe and I walked home from a well deserved Friday night dinner at Mexico DF:

In a rare moment of public affection, he reaches his arm around my shoulder and leans in to kiss me on the cheek.  He stops, then recoils for a moment, his nose squinching.

“You smell like coffee,” he says, then leaning in for another sniff, “and grapes.”

Well, I think to myself minutes later as I lather up in the shower and rinse away the day, that just about sums up harvest.

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