Under low clouds the red and orange leaves are so energetic. It will rain today. I decide after a quick walk with Charlie that it’s very hot, and I want to swim in the pond. No thunder and lightning are predicted. Beach empty, water so warm, smooth, dark green. I have the whole pond, and swim around the island. A favorite part of the day: after he gets home from school. Late afternoon, it’s raining hard now, but still quite warm. He wants me to walk with him in the rain. No thunder, so we go. We have to race, and he has to win. Off with the rain boots. Off with the rain jackets. To the garden. He zig zags in front of me the whole way to keep me from passing him. I don’t want to pass him. I love his zigs and zags over the wet grass. In the garden, I count pumpkins in my patch. Lose count. Some are big and orange, some still starting, little round orange balls. There are still cucumbers, many too big to enjoy, but I clear the vines so more will keep coming. He gets ahold of the hose, and then there’s no chance I will be staying dry. He hoses me soaking. And then we must race back to the house, because thunder is happening. It’s time for me to make everyone’s favorite dinner: chicken and wine sauce. I have to double the batch because they’ll want leftovers. Around the table, everyone thanks me, it’s worth it. I have to excuse myself for poetry workshop, and leave them to clean up. And they do. My daughter is baking, trying again and again to master macarons. Tonight, she is nearing perfection. Everyone dances for happiness that she has baked batch after batch for weeks and has not given up. Like writing poems. So many batches before success. Let me be reminded by macarons.