Goodbye, July


East Matunuck Beach and Jerusalem  photo by M. Reynolds
East Matunuck Beach and Jerusalem photo by M. Reynolds

Look, it’s not like I hate summer. I don’t. But this month was killer, with that heat wave that blanketed us (yes, like a thick, hot fleece blanket on your sweaty skin) earlier in the month. Some of my friends would take that kind of weather all year long. Sure, if you don’t have to go to the office, deal with overheated drivers and cranky, hot kids. Deal with dinner, every night. Know that your electric bill is going to be sky-high because you had to run the A/C all the time. But no, I don’t hate summer.

It’s just that I love fall. That first day when the morning air is…different. Cooler. Drier. You know it’s coming. One of my friends tears up on that day, and again when the first leaves drop from their branches. I dance around the kitchen. I make oatmeal. I open the door to the closet and stare at my long-sleeved shirts, my fleece zip-ups. I open my sock drawer and say “Soon, soon. Just a couple more weeks.”

The other day my husband and I were driving home down a lovely road. The heat had broken and our car windows were open. The road was lined with big trees, leafy and green. And the shadows were long. At five-thirty. He said, “Look! The shadows are long!” We grinned at each other.

So we’ll head back to the beach this afternoon to enjoy another summer afternoon. Because it’s summer, and we’re lucky.

amyandisabelleI finished reading “Amy and Isabelle” by Elizabeth Strout. What an excellent book; it’s still resonating with me. My friend Kim tells me I should do book reviews here. I don’t know, what do you think? I don’t usually read books as soon as they’re released (“Amy and Isabelle” was published in 2000). Maybe highlighting a book once a week would be good practice for me. And I’d be able to share with you a really good book. So, maybe.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to finish up the first draft of my book about a 25-year high school reunion. I’ve set a deadline for myself, because that seems to work. By mid-August, I want to have it out to my beta readers. While it’s out, I’ll revise “Bittersweet Chocolate,” the manuscript I completed this month during Camp Nano. Juggling! But it keeps me busy, and before I know it, September will be here. So goodbye to July for 2013 – and bring on August!

From the Ocean, White with Foam….to the Mountains


As a child, I couldn’t wait to run into the ocean, and I mean run – full speed ahead, who cares if it’s cold, run and fall right into that salty water. Catch a wave, ride it to shore. My father would join me occasionally, my mother never, my sisters to a point, but I would stay there forever if I could. As a teenager, my enthusiasm had diminished, but not much, although seaweed, especially the red algae that floated in millions of tiny pieces, kept me away, as did the threat of jellyfish in the warmer waters of late August.

The beach has lost some of its allure for me, unfortunately. I attribute it to various causes: now I’m very aware of the fact that the ocean is not all that clean (seriously, how is it that the Department of Environmental Management advises us to not swim at Scarborough one day and then the next day it’s fine?); the beach itself, and the general areas – bathhouses, restrooms, parking lots – are littered with cans, bottles, pizza boxes, dirty diapers; my sister saw a sanitary napkin float by her while she was swimming in the ocean last week; I’m less tolerant of the sun and heat and need to reapply SPF50 constantly for fear of melanoma, while it was a rite of passage to get a blistering sunburn at the start of every summer, soothed by Mom rubbing Noxzema all over my shoulders and back.

But the mountains! Ever since I spent that year in Switzerland (and perhaps before that, with summer vacations to New Hampshire), I’ve been in love with the mountains.  Majestic, towering, some topped with snow year-round. My husband feels the same way, telling me he feels protected when he’s surrounded by mountains. He owes it to his mother, who was born, raised and lived in Salzburg, Austria, until her head was turned by a cocky Army sergeant who convinced her to join him in America. We seem happiest when we’re cradled by the peaks around us.

So next month we’ll head south to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia and North Carolina. While we’re there, we’ll look around to see if this is a place for us to live out the rest of our lives. Who knows? We won’t, not until we see what’s there. And in the meantime, we’ll head up north to walk the beaches in Maine, where the water never warms up!