The den is still holding last night’s chill. I put on a long sleeve shirt. The room is too hot for hoodies and too chilly for short sleeves. Fall is more and more imminent.

Some moments stay with us. They may be big events or small pieces of a day we never gave much thought too, pieces that nestled in our memory drawers. When I was a kid, things seemed permanent. I passed the same houses on my walk to school for eight years. I jumped over the railroad tracks.

BREAK! I just went outside to check on Nala, and she had a baby spawn in her mouth. I yelled and ran down the steps to the yard. The spawn got loose and ran. Nala ran too, and she won. She ran up the deck stairs with the spawn in her mouth while I was a madwoman screaming from the yard for her to drop it. She was gone from the deck by the time I got there so I went down again looking for her. I didn’t find her, but because I didn’t want the trip to my yard to be fruitless, I grabbed some trash Nala had brought from the house. I carried it up the stairs to throw away into the trash. As soon as I walked inside to the kitchen I was shocked to see Nala on the couch with the spawn between her paws. The spawn looked dead, glassy eyed. I got something to pick up the poor baby so I could unceremoniously drop it over the fence, but the spawn had been playing possum. It got up and ran off the couch. I imagined it taking up residence as there are plenty of places to hide. All I could think of was I didn’t need another pet. Nala found the spawn which ran then just collapsed close to me. I kept Nala at bay and grabbed stuff so I could pick up the spawn. I got it outside the back door and threw it over the side to the grass. It shook a little then ran back to the yard. I shut the dog door. Nala is now napping on the couch, exhausted from her morning adventures.

Okay, I am going to stop here. I will continue tomorrow what I started earlier about moments.

We have our last outdoor concert in Hyannis today. If you have a little time, bring a chair to the Hyannis green and enjoy a wonderful ukulele concert. We start at 5: 30.

Deep grief is quiet. It settles in the heart. It stays there. It softens but never disappears. My circle gets smaller as I grow older. My grandparents left first. My parents and my aunts and uncles left next. No one ever tells you how awful it is to lose your parents. The hole never closes. I have lost dear friends, as close as family friends. Last week I lost the closest, but she had been disappearing. She had Alzheimer’s. Yet, I was surprised when she died. After I heard, I just sat and everything disappeared, all my thoughts, all my feelings. I couldn’t grab hold of anything. Now I can sit with my memories. I laugh a lot.

Yesterday I visited my former neighbors who had moved from next door to a larger house and yard. They came from Brazil years ago. We sat and chatted. We drank mimosas and ate plantain and Brazilian linguica. It was a wonderful afternoon, a perfect time to be with friends.

Labor Day is late this year which is a good thing as it always signals the end of summer. School starts here just after the holiday. The tourists hang round, but fewer are here during the week. The weekends stay busy. The tour buses start. We won’t get the cape back until November.

Today I am seeing a play with a friend, the musical The Girl from North Country. Tomorrow is the last Monday concert of the summer. We always play Irish music last. We dress in green and wear fascinators with shamrocks or leprechauns. It is a lively concert. I’m glad for lively.

The weather has been delightful. Right now it is 77°. I love the view outside my window. I can see the sunshine through the oak leaves on the tree closest to the house. From in-between the top branches I have glimpses of the blue sky. The air is quite still. It is a quiet Sunday.