Savaged herbs and wonderful currants

Chipmunks are cute and quick, but I hate them. They dug up all the oregano, sweet marjoram and summer savory I had planted in April. When I went out to pick some herbs late yesterday afternoon, I found my herb garden ransacked. They did not eat them., just dug them up. I replanted and watered, but at least half of them are dead. Another pesky thing they do: after the tomatoes are ripening, they go down the row and take a bite of each tomato they can reach.

The black flies and the tourists have arrived. The roads are clogged. We think twice about going anyplace. The broccoli is finally, finally coming in. We’ve been eating it of course but I also managed to freeze some. The yellow squash and pattypans are flourishing since the rain. We’ve never in all my decades of gardening here not had enough broccoli and usually way too much zucchini. We collect the names of people who want the excess. Not this year. But at least we’re finally getting zucchini since the heat arrived. Today we’ll can zucchini relish.

We’ve been having a lot of computer problems. The advent of 24,000 computer users into a village that normally contains about 3000 screws up everything – the post office, the highway, parking, the possibility of going out to eat without an hour and a half wait, and the computer speed. A worm can move faster than my computer or anybody else’s as far as I hear. Also summer people have been running into each other and poles, knocking out power, cable and obviously causing problems with anything electrical.

I have been hearing from poets who took the June workshop how much they enjoyed it and how it helped them improve their work. I like getting that kind of feedback. Some years poets have shown their appreciation by buying me a massage [twice] or plants [twice] but it’s just as nice when they send cards or letters. Many of them stay in touch even from the first workshop eight years ago.

It’s been hot, very hot, so very very hot until this morning. I haven’t wanted to step out of doors after about 10 a.m. until it cools off every so slightly by 5 or 6 pm. I live in airconditioning, not super cold, but cooling the air and me. A great white was spotted off Newcomb Hollow beach this week, the place we have our workshop beach party with a fire. With global warming, more and more come up here every year. They’re a tourist attraction. In the meantime, the turtles rescued last fall are healthy and being released back into the ocean.

With all this blistering hot weather, the zucchinis are finally making, joining the fecund yellow squash and pattypans. The daylilies are out, the roses are gorgeous. The first sunflowers are blooming along the main garden fence. But it’s too hot for work outside I need to do. The cats were languid. They had half the appetite of normal days. I tried an exercise supposed to relieve backpain from a book Woody found. The result of trying their exercises for three days was intense, acute back pain, fierce and unrelenting. I went to my osteopath and it’s better now but still a bit sore.

I’m mostly working on poetry now. I’ve had to hire an expensive entertainment lawyer since I can’t understand the CBS streaming contract for the remote possibility that they will make a series out of WOMAN ON THE EDGE OF TIME. It’s likely this will cost me more than I make out of it. So it goes, as Vonnegut would say.

Friday we finally had some rain. Not as much as we’d like, but enough to give everybody a drink. That cooled it down. Today is perfect for working outside. And perfect for canning zuke relish for the year. It’s a pleasure to be able to open the windows and walk around on our land again.

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