At Keats' house

Here we are, in separate photographs, at Keats' House. Jami, beautiful and witty, looks directly into the camera; I, pensive, my scarf draped along my belly, gaze across the yard. Jami wrote about salad and bird poo recently; I don't have any material like that - but it doesn't sound very Keatsian: salad and poo - saladpoo might be an organic hair product. There is a Seinfeld where Kramer prepares a salad while taking a shower. He tells Elaine just as she's biting into some lettuce. Wonderful moment.
Keats' house is a wonderful place, right across from the Heath. Inside artifacts remain from the famous poet. Among the papers I saw, a bad debt from betting at the track, a certain amount owed on Melancholy, a horse that had not done so well.
I love you honey.