And again, news of meteorological disaster and suffering in the rest of the country, this time a hurricane hitting New York City and the hill-towns of Massachusetts, while here --
Only this calm, golden summer, that has seemed quaint and autumnal since June, always already nostalgic for itself, never too hot, sweet and gentle, like a carefully painted miniature. We sit out on the deck of an evening and watch the stars come out, the 'w' of Cassiopeia and the bold cross of Cygnus, during the last weeks of living in this house. No pests, no wasps or ants or mosquitoes this year. All is sweet and mellow. The Idylls of Oregon.
And I, I'm squaring up corners and throwing things away, lightening ship, aware of the privilege of these last couple months, fearful of jinxing it.