This is her birthday month, so maybe that’s why yesterday she came into my mind and I sat remembering our times together.

May and I had occasionally corresponded over the years, but we only grew close the last 12 years of her life.  Then we would visit her in York, Maine, every August.  Woody and I would drive up leaving early in the morning and arriving close to noon.  We’d bring a bottle champagne that we had kept cold [May oved champagne] and a jar of my homemade jam, strawberry or raspberry or black current. She’d made lunch for us after I looked at her flower garden. 

Her Himalayen cat Pierrot would come in and out, always friendly.  We talked about our work, Woody’s writing, cats, gardens, food, what we’d been reading.  We stayed till I could she was beginning to tire.  Then we’d drive on to wherever we were staying on that trip.

After lunch, we’d usually sit in her livingroom.  I thought her house lovely.  There was a painting of her in her full beauty over the fireplace.  Always at some point, I’d walk down the path to the cliff overlooking the ocean, but the last eight or nine years, she no longer walked with me.

I was upset to learn that some arts foundation that the house was left to had torn it down.  No respect for literary history. Her biographer was very disappointed that I had little correspondence to give her.  Mostly we talked on the phone.

Her last public reading when she was already quite frail was in Cambridge.  She insisted no one but me help her on and off the stage and stay close by while she performed. I had nothing to do with the sponsoring organization and I think they were a bit annoyed that she insisted help come from me.  She knew I was strong as I had moved some things for her a number of times and she did not want a stranger handling her body.

Crises now:  my assistant’s computer went blank on Monday and neither he nor Woody could get it to work.  I use a PC, not a MAC, and couldn’t help.  Finally Woody took it to a MAC place on the Cape in Yarmouth near our dentist olga’s office where he has bought MACS and had them fixed. So far, no word from them.  Then my computer went crazy yesterday afternoon and I couldn’t find my only pair of prescription sunglasses.  Something rare for me: I just freaked out.  Stomach ache, finally threw up a bit, cried, coughed a lot and was useless.  Woody found my sunglasses.  Everything else is up in the air still, but I’ve calmed down.  I called the service I use Computer Help, and they seem to have  cleared up my problems.  In the meantime, the MAC place Woody took Dale’s old MAC took out the old operating system and installed an uptodate operating system and says it should be ready tomorrow.  So we lost a week on putting in corrections to my new book, but we’ll work two days next week trying to catch up.

We are eating form our garden regularly now: salads, spinach, herbs, bok choi so far.  That gives us pleasure.