Wild thistle, friend of the milkweed. Oh, the drought continues. But I was happy to see, out my window, signs of rain last night. And the ground was quite wet. But the brook is bone dry. The plants are parched. The thistle is hearty in bloom, though. I despair a bit about butterflies. How few there are! The blooms that attract them are struggling, particularly the bee balm which has withered. In the meadow I walk past on my morning walk with Charlie the milkweed has gone black. No monarchs in sight. I pass the swamp and the friendliest frog is just sitting there, catching my eye. Hello! I linger with Charlie in Rocky Narrows at the boat ramp because there is a yellow lab, Tillie, and she is romping in the river playing with a fun squeaky tennis ball. Charlie has a fun time chasing and splashing with the ball. He does not want to go! Finally, we part from Tillie and when I am home I order two of those balls for him. His spirit is revived. I have a bit of work to do; prep for my Islanders Write workshop Sunday on Martha’s Vineyard. In the afternoon I have a swim in the pond. Very bath-like temp. And the sweetest breeze rippling the surface. I have not been here for a week, glad to be back, and I take a nice swim. In the late afternoon I return to the pond with the Special One who romps and splashes and does his best to swim on his own and stands on his tiptoes with water up to his chin and grins and shouts and squeals for joy.