The week started with an upset stomach that I’m not sure of the cause. It was mostly chilly this week but already the summer hoards have arrived. Every day there are multiple accidents on Route 6 and elsewhere. Recently a woman ran into the back of a school bus. How could anyone miss seeing a school bus? Fortunately it had just dropped off the last of the children, so while the bus was injured, the driver was not and the bus was empty.
Bicyclists in their condom clothing ride four abreast down our country roads. Parents go merrily ahead chatting while their tiring children drop farther and farther behind. Tourists park on the curve of our narrow roads to get out and pick wildflowers, gaze at a bird, pick berries. They drive fast around blind curves where people are trying to pull out of their driveways or turn onto the road without being able to see them. In short, it’s summer on Cape Cod – not a real place to tourists so how could anything serious happen here?
Wednesday I had one of my eye appointments at Ophthalmic Consultants of Boston, hereafter OCB. They squirted so many dilations and so much of each medicine into my eyes, I couldn’t see well enough even by supper time to cook anything. Woody made one of his specialties, pasta with lots of garlic and tuna fish. That afternoon, it rained gently but we were pleased to get any rain. Then Thursday, the heavens opened up. We got close to two inches of rain, more than we had for the past six weeks altogether. Everything grew overnight. The lightning was loud and scary – I always worry for my gorgeous weeping beech since I had in 1972 planted two of them. The sister of the survivor was struck and split by lightning. The survivor is huge and the branches make a tunnel to the gazebo. The gazebo is now almost entirely covered by one rosebush, Pau’s Himalayan musk rose. It has grown thirty feet and wide and lush. The white roses are sweetly scented. It’s gorgeous. The bushes that survived the drought the year before last are blooming also in red, pink, yellow and white. I grow no hybrid teas or floribundas but only old roses, species roses, the newer Austin roses, KnockOuts from Radler and assorted hardy climbers and bush roses. We don’t use poisons on them or chemical fertilizer – just some manure and compost.
Yesterday turned hot. Today is hot. Tomorrow will be hot. It will be hot for days, really hot although not as hot as in the city or more inland. It’s time to check my black and red currants. I notice the birds active around them so suspect they’re getting ripe. I made strawberry freezer jam from relatively local strawberries; I hope to make black and/or red currant jam maybe tomorrow. We are FINALLY getting broccoli. It’s a weird year.
This week, my agent sent out my new novel THE HOUSE AT HOPE’S END to a publisher to read. She—my agent Robin Straus, is happy with my final [I hope] revisions. My poetry group met this Wednesday. We each bring two poems to discuss. We’re not meeting in July but are planning to meet the last week of August. There are five of us. I’d like to add someone as often one of us is out of town.
Our friend Ramon had another eye ‘procedure’ after two operations. I know what that’s like. When I was diagnoses with glaucoma I had two operations and 18 ‘procedures.’ We were going to go out to a friend’s restaurant tonight but Ramon can’t, so we’re bringing over salad from our garden and pizzas.