When no one is watching, not even my dogs, I slow down. I move more intently and without restraint. No one needs to be fed or be assured. It’s just me. Today is one such day. I’m here alone with my list of chores and I want to make a galette for tonight’s small-town square dance. I am going to take my favorite folding chair, a big cup of tea, meet my neighbors and listen to some fiddle music.

The advertisement at the Old Country Store says tonight is a potluck, so even though I’ll be a bystander, I don’t dare show up empty-handed. However, the sweet serenity of my space doesn’t encourage me to leave the house for extra ingredients. Because no one is watching, I feel lazy, so I consider what is here in the house instead of heading to the local market. There are blueberries and peaches from this week’s CSA pick-up and there’s just enough flour and sugar, and a little lemon. I settle my decision to bake a galette.

I make my favorite crust and as I am rolling it out, I realize how slowly my flour-dusted hands are moving with the dough. Today I’m being more attentive to this butter crust, and it seems to appreciate that there are no other distractions. As I dome the fruit onto the center, I take my time, with no set schedule pressuring me and with no one watching.

The galette goes into the oven and I start to clean. There is a little prepared fruit left over – super juicy peaches and blueberries that have been stirred with sugar and lemon; they can’t be wasted, and because no one is watching, I scoop them with my floury fingers and slurp them while standing over the sink. The sugary-juiciness drips from my fingers onto my white t-shirt, but I don’t mind; because moments like this can happen when no one is watching.