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“Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.”

July 31, 2025

The sky is darkening. Thunder showers are predicted. I believe it this time. The rain will start light but is supposed to get heavy tonight. Rain is quite welcomed. My grass is barn hay. I hand water my deck flowers. It has been a long time since the last rain.

I am a prisoner of the AC. My house is delightfully cool while outside is humid and hot. The only problem is I have to keep the backdoor closed. I swear the dogs are conspiring against me. I have to get up and open the door to let them out and in. They know this. Sometimes they are out for a few minutes while other times they just stand on the deck and look around. I shut the door behind me but don’t close it completely. Nala will bang the door to summon me. Henry will just stand there so I have to keep checking for him. They’ll come in but want out minutes later. I curse all the way to the back door.

When I was a kid, summer was my favorite season. Every day was open to new discoveries, new adventures.

One summer I went to Girl Scout day camp. Camp Aleska was across the street from the zoo and up a dirt road. It was surrounded by huge trees, many of them big old pine. In the front were the spots for each age group. Each spot had a walkway with small rocks on each side and a picnic table. I was in the oldest group. Our site was the furthest away from the camp house. We did crafts, hiked and had swimming lessons. We sang. Girl Scouts always sing.

One summer I was a junior counselor. They gave me my own group. I had no adult leader. I had little kids, the children of the counselors. We sat on small chairs at tables under the trees right beside the lodge. I had to get creative. We drew, colored, played games, took short hikes, heard stories and we sang. At the end of camp, each unit had to present. My kids sang a song with hand gestures. We practiced every day. They forgot most of it anyway, but their cuteness saved them.

My dance card is empty until Monday. I figure the sloth in me will have full rein. I’m going to read and maybe vacuum when the dogs’ fur balls get to be a frightening size, like the monsters of a B science fiction movie along the lines of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. I will watch movies and the Red Sox. I will eat popcorn and chocolate. I will wear my cozies all day. I will contentedly sigh a lot.

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“There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be…”

July 30, 2015

If I could go back in time, I don’t know exactly when I’d choose. Lots of places in time were wonderful for me. When I was eleven comes to mind. The teenage years weren’t even on the horizon yet. Boys were around but had no real importance in my life. I loved school. Riding my bike all over my little world took up many a Saturday in the summer. In the winter was the matinée. I was a girl scout still and did fun overnights at the camp in town near the zoo. I remember the cots there were the old canvas ones tricky to open. We made camp fire stew for dinner. We hiked on the trails through the pine forest which smelled like Christmas. Life was easy when I was eleven.

I might give thirteen another look. We were the big wigs in school, the eighth graders. I was finally a teenager though nothing miraculous happened. Boys were barely interesting but were definitely seeping into my consciousness. The future was rearing its ugly head. I had to pick a high school. My friend and I colluded and were accepted into the same school. That was cause for jubilation. I had the best fun inthat eighth grade. The nun was crazy, not harmful crazy but old age crazy. We got away with everything. I, who seldom crossed the line, spent most of my eighth grade over the line setting a trend for the rest of my life. The line became arbitrary. Life was fun when I was thirteen.

I think I’d be twenty-one again. I’d get to vote for the first time and legally drink for a change. That was my senior year in college. During second semester, every Friday, we had a happy hour beginning at noon, a couple of hours before our last class of the day, and ending in the late afternoon at a bar owned by a friend’s family. It was always elbow to elbow with people, most of them my classmates. We were enjoying our last times together after four years of closeness. That was also the year I was whacked in the head with a sign which said in capital letters DECIDE. I had to plan my future. That was a bit scary so I hedged my bets. I applied to law school, interviewed for a teaching job and applied to Peace Corps, my first and only choice. The rest were back-ups just in case. All three came through, but I accepted Peace Corps, something I had wanted for so long. I remember the day the mailman brought my special delivery acceptance letter. It was in January. I was elated. Life was scary and life was crazy when I was twenty-one.

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“Scouting rises within you and inspires you to put forth your best.”

May 23, 2014

The house is far chillier than outside so I felt a bit silly wearing a sweatshirt in the morning warmth when I went to get the papers, but my house was only 65˚.

In the second grade I became a brownie. Lots of my friends became brownies too and we could wear our brownie uniforms to school instead of our regular uniforms if we had a troop meeting. I had the regular brownie dress and beanie, but I also had a brown purse which attached to the belt and had the brownie symbol on it. It had been a stocking stuffer one Christmas. I was proud to be a brownie but was thrilled on fly up day, the day I became a girl scout. We had prepared by learning scout songs, the pledge and everything girl scout. Our parents were invited to the ceremony. There were candles on the table and pins in rows. Candles always seem to make any ceremony a rite like in church. I remember our brownie leader made a speech and each of us was called in turn to the front where the girl scout pin was placed on our collars. After we all had received them, we stood as a group and said the girl scout pledge as scouts for the first time. Now our uniforms were green.

Jordan Marsh had a section where you could buy boy and girl scout clothes and paraphernalia. My mother and I went, and we bought my sash and my girl scout green tam. On the sash went the name of my town and our troop number as well as all the badges we earned. The Girl Scout Handbook listed what we had to do to earn those badges. I earned many. It wasn’t difficult.

Lots of us were scouts and most of us earned our ten-year pins. We were always proud to wear our uniforms. I remember wonderful overnights at the scout lodge in my town. It had a huge fireplace, and we slept on wooden cots which weren’t all that easy to put together. We ate hobo stew. We explored the woods on scavenger hunts for certain leaves and plants. We sang taps as the flag was lowered and folded.

I know a couple of scouts. I buy mint cookies from them every year. These scouts do so many different things than we had done, and they have a multitude of choices for uniforms, but they all still have sashes for their badges and they recite the Girl Scout Pledge. It seems we are connected.

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“Oh, this is a wonderful parade.”

October 13, 2013

Well, my boys of summer lost 1-0 last night. It was a one hitter and that hit didn’t come until the last of the ninth when Nava, the $1.00 wonder, hit a single. Pitching duels are well-played games but are boring for spectators. We love to see balls, hit by the good guys, sail out of the park. We want a show.

Today has a chilly breeze with a here again gone again sun. I went out for brunch then waited around for two hours for the Seaside Festival parade to begin. I had my iPad so I was content just sitting and waiting. The road was filled with cars, and the line looked endless. This holiday weekend is the last hurrah for the Cape, and it seems as if much of the world has come to enjoy it.

The parade was so hometown. The only outside music came from UMass Lowell’s band, and they must have thought they’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. St. Pius Elementary School had a small band, and I didn’t recognize what they were playing. The local high school sounded good as did the two pipe and drum units, both local. The floats defied description, but I was able to figure out the theme It had something to do with summer as all the floats had umbrellas, beach toys and blown up sharks or whales. Most of the floats seemed to be filled with people throwing candy. There were several antique cars and, of course, the girl scouts and boy scouts. No hometown parade is worth its salt without scouts. A cheerleading school strutted its stuff and cheered their way passed me. The fire department started and ended the parade with sirens and bells.

The crowd seemed pleased, and I really enjoyed the parade as it reminded me of my hometown’s Memorial Day parade which hasn’t changed a bit in all these years. Today I got to wave at the people I know who were riding on floats or in cars. My friends and I chatted as they marched by me. I clapped for the bands and the floats. It wasn’t a long parade, but it was my childhood revisited, and I was happy.

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“Day is done, gone the sun”

July 8, 2010

My mother would call today sticky. It’s humid again, but at least there’s a breeze. I can hear the leaves rustling, whispering to one another. The breeze is from the north, a strange direction for this time of year. My neighbors across the street have their windows open and their blinds raised, also strange. I can’t help but picture my neighbor as a Granny Clampett lookalike sitting in a rocking chair by the open window with a shotgun in her hands in case of varmints. I’m staying clear.

It hasn’t rained in forever. All the fields are brown. They crunch when you walk on them. The weatherman says maybe thunderstorms this weekend. I’m hoping he’s right.

One summer I went to girl scout day camp, Camp Aleska in the woods across from the zoo. The camp had a lodge with one giant room lined in benches which opened for storage, a huge fireplace, a counselor’s room, the kitchen and a bathroom. On the grounds were several picnic tables, each in a small glade and each for one unit of scouts. Behind the lodge, all through the woods, were wide trails covered in pine needles. Every morning we formed a circle around the pole, held hands and sang during the raising of the flag, and every afternoon we formed another circle and sang Taps when it came down. We, the oldest scouts, had the honor of raising the flag and taking it down at the end of the day. We weren’t very good at it. We couldn’t stop laughing. Our shoulders would shake when we tried not to laugh out loud. I think we were called a disgrace a couple of times, but it didn’t matter. We just couldn’t stop ourselves. One would start and the rest of us would follow. They finally took the honor away. Even then, during the afternoon circle, we couldn’t look at each other without laughing. We were at the wrong age to appreciate ceremony.

I became a counselor at the camp. They must have forgiven my youthful indiscretions.

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