. . . I’ve hacked crowded purple sage

back to its rightful place; snapped at dry sticks,

yanked prickly leaves and stems,

but I know, in the darkest,

smallest place inside,

that I have not gotten to the root. . .

~ Excerpt from “Pulling Weeds,” by Alison Luterman

Hummingbird in the bee balm! A monarch at the river’s edge! For some reason, today is a day I decide to attack a bit of garden clean up. Not much. A start. Because I notice the small red maple in the front garden needs some pruning. And one thing leads to another. The wagon, the clippers. Charlie keeps me company. It’s almost, but not totally hot. I just do a half hour, nothing much. Trim the grapevine that’s going wild. Pull pull pull ugly weeds that are harming desirables. Feels like a breakthrough even though I might not to any more for weeks. Still, I feel like I have lightened a weight on my heart. And then I take Charlie to the river where he happily swims. I prepare for a webinar for my How Pictures Heal course this afternoon. And finish up some e-mails I want to send before going away Friday. The house is busy and noisy with construction progress. Oh, it’s hot. Soo hot. The poor hydrangeas. They show drought the worst, their shriveling blossoms. No point in watering them. They will survive, and it’s not wise to try and water all the gardens in this heat. Last summer I watered a lot since I was always planting new plants. In the late afternoon my we go for a swim at Farm Pond, my daughters and me and the Special One. I swim around the island in the bathwater. Sun on my face when I come up for air. Crowded beach; everyone needing a cooling. On the way up the hill to the parking lot, it’s almost 6:00 o’clock but a hot breeze is blowing our faces. Not a cool breeze, or a warm breeze––it’s a hot breeze, tempting us to return to the pond the moment we depart. Poor Suzi, not doing so great. Someone lets her out in the late morning to pee. Then we have to search her out. She has gone to the river to cool herself and all her limbs are black with mud. She is led home, showered. Has not eaten all day. I remember the summer she first came to us. Our elderly lab in his last months. Suzi’s first summer on Martha’s Vineyard. A puppy in the sand and surf––her happiest place.