We have named him Shaman.  He went to the vet Friday to get his next set of shots.  He is fearless.  He has a strong relation ship with Schwartzie that began almost the moment he arrived.  He has made Schwartzie his mentor, watching what he does and imitating it when he can.  He has tried to get Schwartzie to play with him, without success until this morning when they began wrestling on the bed.  Then there was a brief chase later on.  Shaman loves to play and plays vigorously until we give out. He’s gained at least a pound since last Friday when we got him.  He’s still quite thin from South Carolina. 

Willow is curious about him but doesn’t attack or anything.  They have touched noses and sat studying each other.  The first couple of times they met, Schwartzie inserted himself in the middle.  He’s part mentor and part nursemaid.  Shaman is the most active, playful kitty of any recent ones.  He purrs when you touch him or pet him, but he doesn’t like to be picked up.  He wriggles and wiggles and struggles, making tiny mews and kicking.  But he gets on our laps, snuggles next to us, so there’s no lack of contact. 

We are getting zucchinis, enough to feed a summer camp.  Also many pattypans. I’ve given up growing yellow summer squash because I like the flavor of pattypans better.  We made and canned zucchini relish this week.  I cooked and pureed pattypans in a quart container to freeze for the winter.  I’ve frozen 15 pints and one 17art of strawberries. Today I’m planning to make strawberry refrigerator jam.  I like freezer jams as they are far less work and use a lot less sugar.  They taste closer to the fresh fruit flavor.

My poetry group did not meet on Wednesday.  One person had company one had an ailing mother, one was off in the Dakotas, one had a beach party, etc.  We used to take summers off and I think it’s best to do it again, and meet in September.  I was sorry we couldn’t get together, as I have two new poems I would have liked to get feedback on.  Oh well..

The woodchuck ate ALL our cole crabs. First he ate all the broccoli; next night, all the red cabbages; next night all the Brussels spouts plants.  We are angry and depressed about it.  I love those crops.  At the moment we have salad greens, six kinds of lettuce, zucchini and patty pans.  I used the last of the good spinach this week and Woody pulled the plants that had all bolted. The woodchuck did not eat the bok choi, but it’s bolted too and must come out.  I bought a have -a-heart trop and Woody is setting it up in his garden, where all the depredation has occurred.

I just started Elena Ferranti’s novel, THE LYING LIVES OF ADULTS.  I loved her series.  I’ve e been so busy, I haven’t had time to finish one of my archeology zines. I get one American one and one British one. I’m an archeology fan.  It fascinates me. When we were only one of two houses in this whole development [now we’re at the end in the woods], I used to find an occasional arrowhead on the hill opposite our house.  I also had found a 19th century dump that had some wonderful bottles in it.  Long gone now.  When I moved here, we had a great pear tree left over from when this area was a farm. Also an apple tree, very strange shaped now, very old, but it still bars some apples in the fall.  We lost an elderly peach tree in one of the recent storms.  It has pretty much stopped bearing edible fruit.  I’m watching the bush fruits – red and black currants – and the sour cherry, hoping to get cherries before the birds do. The red and back currants have multiplied to the extend where the birds can eat their fill and we still can’t use all the currants.

Tonight, we  have seven for dinner so we’ll eat on the sunporch, buffet style.