The temperature will be close to 90 today, and I will be driving to Bangor with an enormous load of stuff to donate to the Goodwill. For a non-packrat, I certainly have accumulated a lot of junk I didn't mean to keep. And that's just the basement. I've still got a chicken house and a greenhouse to go, plus an attic and various shelves and closets. This does not include Tom's shop and Tom's darkroom and the barn full of Tom's lumber, or the sheds with the lawnmower and the chainsaw, which are still cluttered with the junk of the previous owners.
Today's axiom: Do not own an outbuilding, or you will fill it.
The Frost Place conference begins on Saturday, which means I won't see Tom over the weekend. He will have to manage the stuff removal by himself. Also I see that the forecast is for hot during the conference. Usually late June is cold and damp at the Frost Place. Sweltering will be strange.
However, I do now own a pair of shorts. You may laugh, but I haven't worn shorts for a decade or so. It's not that I'm against them; it's just that I was wearing old dresses to garden in, mow grass, etc. My legs are very surprised by these shorts, but so far they are enjoying the air. And when my husband accidentally swamps the canoe, shorts are easier to flounder in.
Here are a few photos from yesterday's breakfast spot on Great Moose Lake. You'll have to imagine the soundtrack: a chortling loon, a grandfather and grandson puttering by in a fishing boat, a red-winged blackbird, a large bee, someone on the shore mowing grass, someone else on show bashing a dump-truck bed, a giant invisible scuffle that was probably a squirrel but sounded like a grizzly, me cracking hardboiled eggs on a rock. Etcetera.