I gathered tomatoes, cucumbers, basil and dill before the impending storm this weekend. A freakishly early storm, too early to say good-bye to the summer crops. A marigold is peeking out from under a blue FEMA tarp, so maybe all is not lost. Not wishing to take the risk, I did harvest all the tomatoes, then sorted them by color into cardboard boxes in the garage. With any luck, we will be eating fresh tomatoes until Thanksgiving.
The schedule for the week: write, clean the kitchen, write, find my Gardner Village photos from 2003 to blog about, write, go to the Photowalk on Saturday, write. What is not on the schedule: checking the mail six times a day for a special document that is coming, waking the kittens up from their naps to play, or any other stuff that distracts me from the one thing it will take to finish this book, and that’s write some sentences about Highway 89. There might be time for some kitten-tussling after I get a few hundred words onto paper, but not until then. It’s hell working for me.