romance in a meadow, chicha update

There's a meadow near me that I love, especially in May and June. Yesterday I was driving home, and there was a couple standing in the pink mist of ragged robin, her looking like she had stepped out of a fantasy story, him looking enchanted. I turned the car around, pulled over, jumped out, and went plowing through the long grass toward them like some kind of zombie on the attack.

"You guys look so romantic, standing here in the long grass!" I said. They both looked understandably flustered, me accosting them like that, but they were good natured about it.

"Oh--" said the guy. "Well she needed some photos, so I was just helping her out."

I imagine now that she's an up-and-coming singer who sings fantasy-style songs à la Within Temptation or something. He was taking photos for her album cover, or her website. Or maybe she's a writer ... and he's taking photos for her author photo, or her website.

So it wasn't romance after all--no rings of woven grass exchanged as the breeze ruffles hair and wildflowers. But it still looked romantic, so I asked if I could take a picture.

"Sure--how do you want us to pose?"

"Just ... like you were ... like you're talking."



In other news, my first-time brewing experiment, El Salvadoran-style chicha as taught to me by my tutee's mother, via my tutee, is beginning to actually smell alcoholic. (I had to start over once as my first attempt to malt the corn--that was what I was doing, though I didn't know it--got too moldy. This is take two.) Wohoo!