closing time

 Two views of the porch. All that remains is to haul in the beach chairs and porch furniture, hide the candles and soap from the mice, decommission the refrigerators, toss the flowers, put all detergents and any liquids in pails (so that if they freeze they don't go anywhere), clear access to all pipes for the plumbers, unplug appliances, dispose of food, clean and turn off the gas. In two houses. (And not a moment too soon. It was 38 degrees last night. Inside.) Wake up in  the night thinking I forgot something.
Jamie McGlone DuPont's photo of the not yet put-away porch.


seasons go round and round

The apple tree is blooming again, and the sparrows are nesting in the corner of the porch. But then last night, it was bitter cold for this time of year—lower 40s. I feel sorry for the newlyweds inhabiting my other house. And for me, with my untoward utility bills.
   This should be, and is, the season of asters.


outside my window

And yes, I should be outside, but I am not. I am inside, writing, for the next couple of days. Donna wants her intro written on a real typewriter. Does anyone still have on that is operational? I have two, but have no ribbons and have pretty much forgotten how to put them in. Duh!
Signed, All digital all the time.


yeah, i know

I've been a bad blogger. But that's because I'm booking for next season. That, and I better write Donna Ferrato's intro pretty darn quick. Meanwhile, it's cold, so I'm booking from bed.
  And speaking of booking. My friend Peter Meyer has finally opened up his Air bnb in Hudson NY. I gave it a trial run last fall (already!), and it's great. Couldn't be better situated from the main street. Here is the link.


we were ever bookish

 And now, more than 50 years later, we are two PhDs (Elizabethan Theater and Linguistics) and a writer. And all wearing glasses. More on the 50th reunion later.


the crew

Pete, the gas guy, goes off island to pick up his gas truck and get more gas.

John, the heroic roofer, is kept busy by the family.
 It takes a while to gather a group of people to take care of things you cannot. And once you finally have, they start getting older (just like me) and you have to switch them out to keep going. Some, like Peter, the gas guy, are training up the next generation. But will they know how to light the pilots on a Chambers stove? Or how to wiggle the switch on the propane fireplace? Will they want to put on foul weather gear to climb around steep roofs? Or know how to shingle? Where's the tricksy outdoor shower or the shutoff valve in the ground? But the real issue is trust. These people have access to my life in the most basic way, and I to theirs. That trust takes years in the building.
John Henry, with his sister (left),  is incapacitated due to ALS. He can't lift his arms.


off island

 Made it onto the 8:15 boat yesterday, standby. I was the last vehicle on. I had caught my breath by the time I reached New York, but then I had plenty of time to, well, not relax, but sit. It took me an hour to find a parking space. I got lucky.

Leaving Block Island in the wake.



 And so a string of two perfect days ended this morning in clouds. Stay tuned for more Block Island weather. But tomorrow I head for New York and my 50th (!)  high school reunion. That should give me something to write about!


don't have to be a weatherman

Are you sick of me talking about the weather yet?  The rain this morning is torrential. Seems like a safer subject than talking about the anniversary of my mother's death right before what would have been her 92nd birthday. Or friends' blown deadlines or financial problems. Or the damn Supreme Court. Or that time I was raped. Or the frat parties I've been to. Or what it means to know that almost any man is stronger than you are. So, about that weather. Supposed to be windy and nice tomorrow.


like it never happened

Today the sets are lining up nicely. It is hot and humid, like yesterday never happened. There was tropical rain this morning—maybe an inch and a half—and then the sun came out. Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. Going out to sit in the sun!


fierce nature

The wind is coming due east at about 20 mph. That is straight onshore, where I live, with the full-moon tides at their highest. The waves are crashing on the rocks put in to hold back the sea after Sandy, and sand is drifting across the road in places. The afternoon ferries are "questionable" I rather like this weather as long as the storm doors are closed and the propane fireplace is on. And as long as it doesn't go on too long.


the amazing skies

Find the bird.

Striped sunset for the record books

Town of New Shoreham under harvest moon last night. Tonight is full.
It was the hippiest dippiest holiday I had ever celebrated. Taiwan, 1971, the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival. As it grew dark, Ping and her family took me to a temple high above Taipei. We spread out blankets and a feast and listened to other citydwellers doing the same in the nightwoods. Playing music. The guzheng, the pipa, flutes. Laughing, drinking, eating and bathing in the  bright moonlight. I think of it every year at this time. I don't have any mooncakes here in Block Island, but if the moon is out, I will be too.