last chance

When summer moves into its final weeks, I get the same feeling of urgency that I do when I am about to go to the airport to catch a flight home after a vacation. That feeling of wanting to pack it all in before the Cinderella hour. Of wondering whether I forgot about something -- whether I should go around one more time. And buy one more gift or souvenir. And eat one last sweet, drink one final sip of wine.

Maybe it's the same for you? The need to swing through the summer motions before August passes. The need to get away one last time -- that final immersion, before school starts, before the snow falls and the ground freezes beneath your feet. Get away. Now. Last chance!

When people hear me talk of restlessness, they assume I do not much care for home. Nothing could be less true. I love the farmette with the passion one reserves for the most time consuming and challenging projects in life. Were I not working hard now on my classes for the Fall (and were we less blighted by mosquitoes), I would spend far too many waking hours improving the property or cleaning the farmhouse. I care about both deeply even as I am like the parent of a toddler who wants the occasional break from childcare. And then another break. And another -- hating being away from the kid, loving being away, hating it, loving it, missing her, hurrying back to her, then looking forward to the next little escapade, and the next flight, and the next return.

Between thinking about the one last little trip and working madly at school stuff, I'd say the day was pretty full -- most of it, of course, spent on the porch.

And so again I leave you with little else here, on Ocean. Breakfast, garden, tennis, dinner -- these were the notable pleasures of the day. Let's run through them again, this time with photos and annotations.

An early morning examination of the flower beds.






Checking to see if the newly placed bronze figurines are fitting into their environment. They are.






Appreciating the very early streams of pale sunshine coming in from the east. We've had a whole string of beautiful days. And this magnificent weather continues today.






And now finally breakfast. On the porch.






Then it's work. And planning that final little jaunt. And more work, all on the porch. There is a break in there for weekly grocery shopping, but otherwise, I'm there, behind stacks of paper.

When evening comes, Ed drags me out for a spirited game of tennis among the pines. Isis waits for us on the picnic table. Here he is -- happy that we are finally back.






And now it's time for supper and I have to say, from now until the frost hits hard, there wont be a meal that doesn't include tomatoes. Our crop wont be as substantial as it was last year (we really stunted the growth of some by putting them in so early). But we do have a steady stream of 'em and so today's soup will inevitably be heavy on the tomatoes, even though it is, in fact, a full blown mushroom soup.






While chopping, cooking and generally fussing over the right spices and mushroom combinations, I glance outside and notice the last rays of the setting sun. Pretty in the morning, pretty in the evening too. And more of it will be with us tomorrow. And isn't that just such a good thing!