Sunday, September 20, 2020

We had a frost advisory posted for last night, so I spent much of yesterday taking down the garden: okra, the rest of the peppers, the cherry tomato, the basil. As it turns out, we didn't get frost, so I've still got flowers, and many enthusiastic greens, and most of the herbs. But the lushness is waning.

Today the three of us are going to visit the salt marshes, before Paul goes to work this afternoon. I don't know where we'll drive to--somewhere fairly close--but even not-too-far feels like an adventure these days. I have been exactly nowhere since our Baxter trip in July . . . to the grocery store and back is the only traveling I do.

Now, on this chill morning, the sun is shining, my feet are cold, the cat has gone back to bed, and I'm thinking about what I should do with my manuscripts. Wincing about what I should do is more accurate.

You'd think this would get easier. But it doesn't.

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