A foretaste of winter

This week has been very cold here. We haven’t had snow yet--and our strong sympathy for the folks in upstate New York where the woman who bought our old press Leapfrog was unable to get out of her house because so many feet of snow made it impossible to open the door for her or her daughter to escape. But it was a killing frost finally. Most of the salad greens survived under agricultural cloth but a bit battered. Some of the Swiss chard succumbed but some made it through along with Brussels sprouts and leeks. All the leaves have fallen from the deciduous trees except for the weeping beech. I always worry about that tree, my total favorite of the trees I planted many years ago, when strong winds blow. I had planted two of them but its twin was struck by lightning when it was still relatively short. The first pass of MADE IN DETROIT went off to Knopf and I rewrote the flap copy. I had a long talk with my new agent Robin Strauss, mostly about E books. I wrote 2 poems after the ms. went off. Walked in town when wind kept us away from the pier. It always surprises me how when I walk someplace, how different everything looks than when I am a passenger in a car. I noticed details on houses that were new to me. We went down a sidestreet I had never in all my decades of living here ever been on. I noticed that a decorative pattern had been created with bricks interrupting the usual cement on part of the sidewalk. I always do notice how when we drive down Route 6 after the leaves have fallen from the bushes and trees, I see houses invisible in summer. Nights have been very dark this week with cloud cover and the waning moon behind it. The many houses of summer people are dark. Lights on in houses are proof someone else is here and cheerful in the thick night. I have been reading Ben McIntyre’s nonfiction books about World War II spies. I have known some agents over the years, mostly when I lived in Brooklyn and Manhattan. His books are detailed and lively. The first short stories arrived this week from Fifth Wednesday zine in Chicago. Woody and I are the judges for the fiction issue. I’m enjoying reading the stories so far. They have been vetted but even so three of the five were dull, lacking in vividness or felt just too made up. Unlike Woody, I like fantasy and science fiction but it has to feel real, fully imagined. We made gravlax for an hors d’oeuvres for Thanksgiving. Today I’m making Maryland baked chicken pieces for tonight. Rabbi Alan Ullman is doing a havdalah service at the Senior Center and there’s a pot luck with it. Last night I made a double supper of roast beef, our butternut squash with a sour cream rosemary orange sauce and a big Caesar salad from the garden that Woody put together. Our friend Paul had a hip replacement and his partner Dan had to drive to Newton-Wellesley to pick him up. Dan has leukemia and driving back and forth every day had worn him out and given him a fever.   Woody brought their half of our supper over at six with candy for dessert. I’ll see how it goes this week if they need another meal. Out here friends often do for friends when help is needed. Woody had to be driven to Orleans early Monday morning to get the truck that had been repaired, and our friend Stephen drove him. Our friend Martha also made some food for Dan while Paul was still in the hospital.