This is the summer for vines. The summer squash and the watermelon are racing to fill their spaces before the other invades. The rain has fallen enough that the garden is growing without help from the water hose: lupines, oregano, flat italian parsley, short stocky sunflowers, coral bells, redbell peppers, russian sage.
There is something satisfying about finishing all the little projects that I had left undone out of necessity: putting the closets to order, tidying the bookshelves, pulling weed, and harvesting my herbs.
We are playing chess. The pieces march across, are knocked down, and set up again. My son is learning strategy. It no longer matters who wins. This is success.
I am reading Louise Glück's "The Wild Iris." It is cool water from a spring-fed well.
Do we choose the world we live in?