After a busy weekend, I'm trying to relax into this whole vacation feel, which is a tough adjustment. To not feel like I have a million things to do--poems I HAVE to write, books I HAVE to read, press and wicked alice stuff I HAVE to do. I'm going to be busy with the Alice issue and the print annual when I get back into town, plus assembling Vestigial Portions (if you've ordered a copy they will be done and in the mail around the 24th), but I'm taking a break from most of it this week and next.
Already that August wiltiness has seetled into the gardens, though the weather has been pretty nice overall, warm enough but not too hot. I'm usually amazed how dark it is here at night, darker than I remember it being when I was younger. The moon has been reasonbly full the last few nights, though, so there's this eerie otherworldly glow out my bedroom window, quiet enough I could hear the horses next house over. The trucks rumbling on the highway. Even the drooping tomato plants in my dad's garden looked spooky, having already filled the house with baskets, ready for my mom to make them into salsa, always a stinky, messy couple of days, but the results are pretty damn good.