Jean’s Place is like jumping on a Time Machine in the 1940s or 50s. Nothing in the diner has changed much over time, it’s the only place I ever go where my coffee is waiting for me before I sit down at a table, and I have never had to wait more than five minutes for service and then only once in four years.

it’s also the only place I go where people sit on stools or at tables reading newspapers. I’m not sure where they get them or where they are published, but they are read religiously at Jean’s.

Maria and I had breakfast this morning at Jean’s, she had oat pancakes, the best pancakes for miles around, and I had an Egg Sandwich on an English Muffin with crispy home fries.  Our plates are always clean at the end of a meal.

I love looking at the walls and the waitresses asking everyone who comes in how their kids or parents, or siblings are.

They actually want to hear the answers. I loved this image of the man sitting at a table after the morning rush reading his morning paper carefully. It felt like an Edward Hopper moment. It had to be black and white.

Tomorrow, the Farmer’s Market plus a trip to Moses Market to get some new flowers for my garden bed from Judy Page. She calls her flower farm Fat Cat Farm. The cat’s name is Ballou. Here’s why: