"We write to taste life twice,

in the moment and in retrospect."

~ Anaïs Nin

Charlie did not have to wait this morning. Suzi did not join us, and we went for a long time into the woods. We mucked around in the skunk cabbage under the trees to the hidden brook that you can hear from the trail bubbling and gurgling. It was muggy and the horseflies and mosquitos went crazily after us and we had the woods this hot July day to ourselves and we were content. At home I needed more ferns to plant with the black eyed Susan’s against the green wall of the art barn. Weeding and watering, weeding and watering. Frank came home and mounted our bird boxes and placed them in our meadow. Frank and I stayed out most of the day finding work to do in the yard. Thunder rolled in with lightning and pouring rain which finally drove us indoors. I read some poems by Fleda Brown and copied them out trying to see what marvelous strategies she is using in her poems about wildflowers: “Bladder Campion,” and “Jack in the Pulpit.” I need a poem for Monday night and will work on that tomorrow. After walking and watering and weeding and setting up a party for Frank’s buddies to watch the women’s World Cup. I love that the men are coming to watch the women play soccer.