Whatever else may be my experience of New England, I so far love the summers. I am highly sensitive to high heat, and worse, high humidity. My apartment here in NH doesn’t have air-conditioning. I have not needed it. Yesterday was about as picture-perfect as they come (and I, um, didn’t take pictures). July and it is in the mid-70s. Happiness.
I’m not doing much of anything on this 3-day holiday. We had Friday off. I drove down to the city where I used to live and still have a prescription on refill. I took the long way down there and back and just enjoyed the heck out of myself. It is so pretty here. I can’t stop saying that.
It smells so good, too. Now the lilacs are gone but other things have taken their places. One part of the drive yesterday took me past an old farmstead with masses of antique roses in bloom. Those types of roses are much headier than the new varieties. I literally stopped the car and just smelled the roses for a while.
Not too far from my apartment is an old-style ice cream place, where you order your ice cream through windows cut through the side wall of the building. Really yummy stuff. Maybe not Graeter’s of Cincinnati good, but good enough. Also, if I could walk, within walking distance is a gourmet cupcake place. I snagged a red, white and blue one (ok, two) for today. NOTE and EEK! I just pulled this image off Google for the ice cream place and… apparently yesterday I just missed having ice cream with Hillary!!!! I don’t have a tv, so miss these types of things. Wonder what she ordered.
I’m catching up on my blog reading. I love the youthful energy of some of the blogs I read. I’m not sure I was that energetic when I was in my 20s. I’m reading older folks grumping about things that should be grumped about, and I know I’m that grumpy, too. I’ve read about being a fan of war writing and films without being a fan of war. I’ve been reading of what the 4th reminds us.
I’m glad there was this experiment called The United States. I can sometimes be the most patriotic and can sometimes seriously think about moving to Canada or Europe. Nothing is perfect, except maybe the weather here yesterday.
As to politics, which is germane for the day, the best bumper sticker I’ve seen in a while: I’m for the separation of Church and Hate.
As to writing, still unedited. Sorry. It is that or nothing.
And a poem for the 4th.
When you’re young, and in good health,
you can imagine living in New York City,
or Nepal, or in a tree beyond the moon,
and who knows who you’ll marry: a millionaire,
a monkey, a sea captain, a clown.
But the best imaginers are the old and wounded,
who swim through ever narrowing choices,
dedicating their hearts to peace, a stray cat,
a bowl of homemade vegetable soup,
or red Mountain Ash berries in the snow.
Imagine this: only one leg and lucky to have it,
a jig-jagged jaunt with a cane along the shore,
leaning on a walker to get from grocery to car,
smoothing down the sidewalk on a magic moving chair,
teaching every child you meet the true story
of this sad, sweet, tragic, Fourth of July world.