Rosemary is in Brockville and Casi (her cat) and I are alone in our Kits home. It is hot. Then it rains. Then it is hot again. I love the heat and sleep on the sheets without my night gown. I am emptying the refrigerator by eating what’s in it without bothering to shop for food. That feels good but doing it alone is no fun.

I go to the garbage and place the empty bottles of Argentine rosé that I enjoyed with Portland baroque bassist Curtis Daily. His playing of Ginastera’s  La danza de la moza donosa on our baby grand Chickering is in my memory.

In the back lane I looked at the monumental sunflowers that our oldest daughter Alexandra gives us every spring as small plants. I deadheaded them, which is a sad task made easier by using the opportunity to scan them for this blog.

Fall is around the corner but it will be a happier one just as soon as my Rosemary returns.