I finally got into Seashore Point’s outpatient rehab facility in Provincetown this week. I had been on their waiting list.  So far, so good.  They seem much more attuned to individual patients than my experiences with Spaulding.  I am hopeful that my ankle perhaps maybe can be healed at last.  We’ll see.

We’re eating plentiful salads and spinach salads.  Today I should start freezing spinach.  The broccoli is beginning to head and we should be eating it perhaps tomorrow.  Yesterday I could walk well enough to weed my upper garden.  Things are growing fiercely with all the rain, but yesterday we finally got some sun and it looks good for today.  The winter squashes I planted last week are beginning to sprout. The peonies are beginning.  I weeded that garden this week. Last year it was so dry and hot that the peony garden got away from me.  Not this spring. 

This week we had the roof on the diningroom replaced along with the skylights that leaked whenever it rains.  The cats were terrified by all the noise, the banging and the power tools.  Mingus was particularly upset by the old curtain Woody tacked up in the bathroom, since the roof of the diningroom is right outside the bathroom.  The diningroom is an extension with windows on three sides, a very pleasant room. Friday morning, Xena asked me if the roofers were coming back.  She did this by getting up on her hind legs and looking out of my office window at the diningroom roof outside, making little querying noises and looking back at me.  She is a very smart cat [streetwise, of course, a kitten who had to survive on her own after her mother was killed] who communicates very well with body language and minimal vocalizations.

I have now read and annotated all the mss. by the poets who will be in my annual juried intensive poetry workshop in a couple of weeks.  I finally got back to my own work and wrote two poems in the last two days.  Dale and I have been going over the lectures and handouts for the workshop and Monday, he should copy everything in 13s –for the 12 poets and me.  It was an unusually cool and wet week until Friday.  Nonetheless, Woody put up the bean towers in the lower garden, planted beans and put in the drip irrigation system.  As I was slowly recovering from the huge setback after I followed instructions of a P.A. at an orthopedic facility/factory I had gone to in hopes of my ankle healing, I couldn’t do much of anything.  Now I’m just about back to the level my ankle was at when I went to that Orthopaedic place.  That’s their spelling.

It remains mostly cool and cloudy here.  It has been a rather dismal spring, but the plants like it.  We’ll eat our first broccoli tonight and I start freezing spinach today for the winter.  I also want to plant nasturtiums I have been soaking.  I love them for their brilliance and we eat them in salads.  After all, they’re in the caper family.  I guess a cool wet spring is better than the warm dry ones we had the last two years, when the broccoli and red cabbage and bok choi just gave up and we had half the lettuce we’re eating this spring. 

The cats are very glad the roofers were fast and only here one whole day and part of the next.  Willow hid in her wall condo until evening both days.  Now she’s frisky and out and about.

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