Garlic harvested and hung to cure in the shed. Hill Country flowerbeds weeded. Chard sowed where the garlic once grew. Overenthusiastic creeping thyme dug from part of the front walkway. Last season's compost emptied from bins, shoveled into the leaf-mulch corner, pitchforked for aeration. I didn't get to the grass mowing but I did accomplish more than I thought I would. Thank goodness for my exercise regimen, which keeps me fit for these mulish chores.

Of course I read in the interstices. The day was all mine, as T spent it taking pictures on Peaks Island. But in the evening he cooked steaks, tomatoes, and zucchini on the fire. I cooked mixed grains and buttery chard in the kitchen. We drank some good beer and played darts and ate homemade vanilla-walnut ice cream for dessert. It was a sociable summery end to a sort of summery day.

But today will be rain. It hasn't started yet but it's forecast to be a downpour. Our plan is to eventually slog into town to go birthday shopping for our son. I hope we manage to do it, but I can imagine enthusiasm lessening, once the deluge sets in.

And now, right on cue, here come the first drops. The rain, the rain . . . all summer long, a suffocation of wet.