We were supposed to go to Kittery and York Maine on Tuesday but when I learned Monday night that Woody was down on that and that he wouldn’t enjoy being there at all, we changed our plans. We got up early, drove straight to the Noon Family farm. Jean seemed good. Her llama has retired himself and is no longer protecting the sheep against NE coy-wolves. She is going to get a donkey this weekend, to protect the sheep, as she is losing many now. After we left the farm, we followed a faulty detour to MacDougals apple orchard. Finally we got there and bought several kinds of apples, some winter squash [crop failure here] and freshly made cider. It’s a pleasant and intelligently run operation, both pick your own and buy already picked but not bagged. You can pick out the apples you want.

We got home in the evening and I was too sore and exhausted to do much of anything. B  the timea we sat in rush hour traffic on 128, I was in a fair amount of pain in my back. My ankle that I hurt just before Covid in Detroit is acting up for the first time in at least two years. I don’t know why the car trip bothered it, but it did. I saw my osteopath Dr Dworet Thursday in Orleans and he helped a lot. I was able to sleep comfortably last night. I can walk better today. I was limping when I went in to see him.

Maine was worth the pain to get great natural delicious lamb and real apples with flavor instead of the mealy ones in the supermarket.

I spent most of the summer rewriting THE HOUR OF MIY DEATH to get it to my agent in early September.  She read it, liked the rewrite and sent it to an editor at Knopf. My long time editor Ann Close retired in December and this is a new editor. I have no idea if she would even find it interesting. Or if she has  read it yet.  Fall is a very busy time in publishing. I’m an old lady who has probably aged out of New York.

We’re still getting some tomatoes and some means.  The five inches of rain we got and sorely needed washed a lot of the lettuce seedlings away and all the Chinese cabbage seeds and little radish seedlings.

My poetry group met this week and that was good and helpful. I always make copies of three poems and then decide at the moment which two to read to the group and get feedback on. 

I am mostly writing poems now and beginning this last week to bring out some fall clothes. My possessed computer erased my file of what clothes are in what old suitcases and old backpacks in the hall closet. So, it’s a real crap shoot. Woody takes down a random suitcase and I find out what’s in it. Surprise!