When Sarah comes home from the post office and the local market, I invite her to sit on the porch with me.

"It's so beautiful here," she says, not for the first time.  And it is.  Despite temperatures in the mid-90s, there's still snow on the mountains to the north and east of us.

"It's the most beautiful place on earth," I agree.

I let her settle in for a moment before I change the subject.  "I planted more seeds in the garden today," I begin.

"Really?" she asks.  "I thought you'd planted all the garden beds."

"I had," I concede.  "But I tilled and planted a plot of hardy stuff along the west fence.  There's a major trucking company that announced today it's going into bankruptcy.  I just worry that if we don't grow our own vegetables, we may not have any."

Sarah thinks about this for a moment.  "You worry too much," she says.  Then she stands and heads for the kitchen.  I hear her rattling pots and pans, perhaps starting dinner.  I give her plenty of space.

Later, I've left the porch and begun loading cut firewood into a wheelbarrow so I can stack it on the wood pile.  I turn to see Sarah bearing a glass of cool water and a plate of hot, sliced banana bread.  

"Have a slice," she says.  "It'll never be better."

I stop what I'm doing and comply.  It's a nice treat on a hot, June afternoon.

"I was thinking about what you said," Sarah says, as I chew a mouthful.  "I don't like to think about the worst happening, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.  What do we need?"

"More wheat," I tell her.  "That's the main thing, because we can grow our own vegetables, and we have eggs and milk.  But there's no grain I know of that grows here."

"What about fruit?" Sarah asks.

"We should get some, I guess," I agree.  "Canned, I suppose.  It keeps longer than dried."

We make our way back to the kitchen, where Sarah begins a shopping list.  "How are you set for ammo?" she asks.

"I think I've got plenty," I tell her, thinking of the thousands of rounds of 7.62 x 39 up in the hay loft.

"How about for the .270 and the 30-30?" she asks.  "We may need to hunt at some point."

"Good idea," I say.  "I'll pick up some extra reloading supplies when we go to town."

Sarah shows me her list.  It's got more on it than what we talked about.

"Yarn?" I ask her, reading from the list.  "Fabric?  Nutter Butter cookies?"

She grins at me.  "I just wanted to see if you're paying attention," she says.