Though I’ve been making supper most evenings, I didn’t feel up to entertaining.  I am much better than I was.  Little coughing, no more than Woody coughs because of the pollen in the dry weather. I was very weak after pneumonia and as my cardiologist warned me, it takes a long time to recover strength. I think I’m up to at least 85% of how I was before pneumonia.  It’s enough to work outside and inside and do mild but slowly increasing exercise. We also didn’t go out after my convulsive coughing at friend’s houses. And us having to leave early.  My energy has surged back this week

This weekend we decided I could go out finally, even if I didn’t yet feel up to cooking a grand meal for six or eight people.  Friday evening, we went to the Grotzes in town.  Tasha won’t be here as much as we would like [and probably Tasha too] as she has to teach this summer at Dartmouth [molecular biology].  She is going back there early next week, so it was now or not for a while to spend time with her and her mother Stephanie. Tonight we go for supper at Chaim and Theresa’s house.

My garden is now fully planted and weeded [that latter being a very temporary state].  Woody’s has only delicata winter squash bushes to plant in his and he’s full too. He’s starting on the lower garden.  So far he’s plowed and is now involved in putting up teepees for the pole beans and if the rabbits don’t eat them all, some winter squash – kabochka and butternut. 

I am still waiting for my agent’s response to THE HOUR OF MY DEATH, if she will handle it or finds it too weird or discursive. When I think about that, I feel quite nervous. I had a hard and confusing interaction with an editor this week.  I had sent her five poems.  She couldn’t decide if she wanted any of them or not and kept asking for more poems.  She also strongly objected to the word ‘slut’ in a poem, which had to be the word I wanted and needed there.  Finally with her still not able to decide if she wanted to use any of my poems, I withdrew them. I have been a magazine editor and a small press editor and I don’t understand not being able to decide which works strike you and which don’t.

We don’t have a lawn.  I consider them ridiculous here, just as they are in Phoenix, Las Vegas or any desert city. We grow vegetables, bush fruit, flowers instead.  They give back.  They don’t require poisons.  We do have a patch where we can set up tables – it’s just a level area [we don’t have many of them] where wild grasses seed themselves and maybe once a montn in summer, Woody cuts them.  We have droughts in late spring and summer most years lately. To keep a lawn green, how much water from our well would a lawn waste?

From now on, my garden work is as much inside as out, processing freezing, drying, canning what we grow.  This week, I froze local strawberries, eight pints so far. I also turned the garlic scapes Woody cut off into six half pints of what I can June pesto, made like pesto but from the scapes of our hard-nosed garlic.

It’s been feeling summery. Under the coming heat dome this week, we should fare better than a mainland – but 81 or 82 is still rather hot for working outside. I haven’t checked our black currants yet.  Last year was a bumper year of sour cherries, but our tree has few this year.  It seems to go in cycles. 

Woody has begun on the lower garden this week. Much still to do, but it’s at least 75% planted.