Relief to hear the law’s no longer looking for me; an appeal was withdrawn and so I can unlock my doors and hover in the heated daylight hour.
Tonight I must go a-picking. Cucumbers each large enough to fill a pickle jar itself for want of tending. What will I do with all those cucumbers–and beans, the beans of course are all aripe at once. I cannot even lay them out upon a table in the front yard with a sign that says they’re for the taking; One bad corner starts the yard and too many cars have flown instead of driven.
Tomatoes, of course, and peppers won’t be ready till September. Stubbornly they grow and grow, refusing to turn red. I’m craving BLTs and gazpacho and salsa, surely summer fare.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology