Memoirous

Despite the calendar date: Sumer is icumen in. This medieval round is delightful, gay, and carefree. I can easily imagine Renaissance women dancing around a maypole, celebrating the change of season. When I awake these days, I go outside with my cup of hot tea to visit the garden. Every day the beans grow higher, though NOT yet climbing; the cucumbers are 2 inches high, yet not spreading; the kale and chard are showing a bit of color. Something has dug with its little paw in a couple of pots next to the beds. I’m still thinking of how to restrain them. There’s also the need to weed—which means making sure I do not pull the wrong thing. I’m overly cautious. Last night there was a raccoon outside my door. I knew it was beginning to rain and thought: How can rain feel scratchy? When I looked over and saw it with its paws on my French doors, scratching at the window. I was entirely freaked out. I stuffed cotton under the door, in a little space opened up since the Tiny House is settl...