I tell myself softly, this is how love begins—

the air alive with something inconceivable,

seeds of every imaginable possibility

floating across the wet grasses, under

the thin arms of ferns. . .

~ Excerpt from “Milkweed,” by Bradford Tice

Still the wave of heat and the windows shut and a dry and dusty day outdoors. I go out to water it. First, the hydrangeas, budding blue and starting to thrive. In the front I go to the milkweed I transplanted last year–yes! they are in bloom! I’m so excited about the monarchs they will bring. I keep watering everything, and there’s a lot. Then, to the vegetable garden. Oh, dear, the heirloom tomatoes are wilting! They need water twice a day, I see. I plant the watermelon seedlings and then I work on grass seed in the hot sun. Raking up a few areas that need seed, here and there, and then seeding and watering. I don’t take a walk because I have work to do and I plan a swim before yoga class in the late afternoon. Thunder threatens, but I go to my friend’s dock with my daughter, dive in and swim round the island, safely back before the storm brews up, and then we have a great yoga class indoors. I’m so glad I squeezed in the cold swim! There is a spontaneous magical moment in the house today: all of a sudden, the five of us are in the room together. My husband has stepped out of his office, I have stepped out of mine, my daughter who lives here is in the kitchen, my daughter who doesn’t live here has just driven home for a short time, and my son who has not been in the house in over a year stops in as well. We are beyond Covid. I don’t shout or say anything. I just acknowledge the gratitude and good fortune I feel in my heart.