Conversation, Salvation Army-bought jars in arm, in the carpark at Woodend on Friday afternoon:
"You picklin' things too, love?"
"Yep. Runner beans - if there's enough - and another batch of tomato-chilli jam. You?"
"Yeah, everyone loves me pickled shallots. Makin' more today."
He tipped his hat to me and opened the door of his ute, and, as an afterthought, turned back for a moment. "Me own shallots, that is. That I grew."
He didn't need to offer that up, but I am super-glad he did.
Have I told you how much I love life right now? The sunflowers are over - yanked out, composted, kaput - but there's still some of their high-summer cheer about.