Lunch, daily but ephemeral, is often the forgettable meal, a mid-way refuelling, a matter of fact calorificaton of self. But here we see the  end of a long lunch, long on table and long on time, slipping gracefully into the past tense, the afternoon light a soft apricot that adds some length to the perspective and a grainy softness to those elegant former hosts, the chairs.  Why is this qualityof fading, valued and named  by the Japanese as wabi sabi, so moving? Is it the integration of tonality, the quiet cohesiveness of colour, or the tug towards the irreversible nothingness, that pulls us back a moment, asking us to pivot between being and remembering?
This photo is from  the Olive Long Table Lunch at Whispering Brook,  a perfect lunch. Don't fret though, there is always next year.