Waiting, waiting

We have been in a bad drought all July. Finally Thursday morning we had rain for an hour, not what we needed but at least finally something. We got about ¼ inch, more than we’ve seen in weeks. Everybody got a drink and the air is less heavy with pollen although it’s still mighty humid. The rest of Massachusetts and north have been getting too much rain and we’ve been getting none at all. Now it’s back to being hot, humid and no rain. It feels like a bad joke to have such sticky humid weather during a drought. But late Friday afternoon, it was nice enough to sit outside for a bit. Woody however has poison ivy from clearing the old terrace in the woods that had become overgrown and almost impassible. Now we can walk there.

I finished Neil Gaiman’s two books of short stories. I enjoyed most of the stories but prefer his novels. I’ve just started reading THE HUMMINGBIRD’S DAUGHTER and the new issue of EARTH’S DAUGHTERS poetry zine. Now the sun is out. I’m still negotiating with Detroit. I thought we’d worked things out but they are quibbling about what travel expenses they are prepared to pay. I’m getting very tired of these negotiations that have stretched for months. If they don’t get it together soon, I’ll cancel.

Our beans have finally come in. I started the fall cole crops this week from seed [they finally germinated Friday]: broccoli, radicchio, cabbage, bok choi and Chinese cabbages, three kinds of the latter. The cucumber seeds I planted earlier this month have grown to the point where Woody was able to plant them. I wanted to plant the cucumbers for my garden, but I injured my groin doing a new exercise my osteopath gave me. When I woke up, I couldn’t walk. Guess I won’t try that one again. I’m better but still a bit sore. I won’t go back to exercise until tomorrow.

This morning Susan came to weed in the gardens with me and to discuss the poems of hers I read and annotated. We’re doing perennial beds that have been neglected since my knees went and then the operations. I’m never supposed to kneel, so that makes it harder to weed, but somehow I manage. I’m watching the beets carefully, to dig them when they’re ready. I hope there’s enough big ones to make borscht. Last year, there wasn’t. I love to make cold borscht at least once a summer.

Not in a very creative mood. I wrote a couple of poems this week, started a story and abandoned it. Too shallow an idea to flesh out. Nothing is happening with the novel THE HOUSE AT HOPE’S END that my agent has. A novel about elder abuse is not likely to mean much to editors in NYC. This business of the Detroit gigs hanging and hanging is driving me nuts, weighing on me. I feel stuck. It’s frustrating.

We also waiting on the roofer and the window guys. Feeling a bit helpless, all this waiting. The pole beans however are not keeping us waiting. I’ve arady frozen 3 lbs and we’ve had four meals of them already. And yesterday Woody picked the first two maincrop tomatoes, heirloom Caspian pinks. Nice big pretty tomatoes, flawless.

Tonight I’ll make zucchini mélange- a vaiable dish I invented that tonight will have groundlamb, eggplants, zucchini, onions, garlic and tomato sauce. It’s a summer dish that is different every time.

We’re spending a quiet weekend., not seeing anyone except Susan for two hours this morning. Other than that, we’re staying home and working in the garden and in the house. We’re kind of low energy right now. I’m recovering fairly well from a groin strain and Woody had poison ivy. It’s hot and humid still, not a drop of rain.I’m drying lavender and a few herbs. More later this week. I made three more small containers of pesto to freeze and saved some out to use fresh.

 

 

 

 

 

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