change

My nephew and I surveyed the garden one last time.  I’ve learned what survives the heat. All the lavender plants are thriving. Of course. Hot and dry. So... southern France.

Nasturtium? (Monet’s standby in the more northern Giverny) Forget it. No amount of water helped keep them sprightly and flowering through the heat wave. They hate it and they let me know it. You touch them in a kind gesture of sympathy and they shrivel, like a kid sticking out a tongue at you for not giving her what she wants.

But of course, next year may be different altogether. It may rain again. Wisconsin (like life?) is so unpredictable.

As I drive my nephew to the airport, we talk about uncertainty. Not clear when I will see him again, not clear where he will be.

So my nephew’s gone and Ed and I have to think about watering, but in the meantime we’re back at Paul’s Oasis Café and here’s a change for you – Paul is married now! You go away for a month and the wheels keep spinning.

For dinner I cook up one of my market standbys: green beans, potato, egg, tomato, scallion.

 Missing are the Mediterranean anchovies. Present is Isis. (The photo of him is from the time I was watering. He sat back, somewhat sleepily and contemplated life amidst the smallest of the tomato plants.)

Life. ... when I jump out, you jump in (jump rope song from childhood days).