It's very sticky and warm on this dark morning, and the windows are all open, and the cicadas are creaking away like crazy in every direction. September may be days away, but summer is clinging hard to Maine. 

This afternoon I'll need to make another batch of tomato sauce. I know I'll be picking beans and trying to figure out what to do with them. I don't have time to can, so probably I'll end up giving at least some of them away to the neighbors. Vegetable-eating neighbors without gardens are a real boon during harvest season. 

I'll also be parked at my desk, of course: hacking away at manuscripts, trying to catch up on work before the boy arrives, though apparently he's got zoom meetings and other stuff to do while he's here, which makes me feel somewhat less breathless.

All in all, I'm feeling kind of overwhelmed, though I've got the whole day to myself and I know, rationally, that I'll get done what needs to get done. More, it's the sense that life is billowing at me, like a sheet in a breeze.