Sunday, June 08, 2003

Not Much Here

Reunion is over, and the campus is suddenly, postapocalyptically quiet. The baby's got a yeast infection itch; I carried her naked-bottomed down to the farm with Darcie and Virginia this afternoon after a sleeplate start to see the recently sheared sheep, feed clover to cows, and chase and catch a pair of identical chickens escaped from their chickenwire cage. The poppies were out in full gaudiness along the lavender patch, orange and purple in the late afternoon summerhaze.

With dining halls closed for months we took Virginia to the Peoples' Pint for pulled pork burritos, homemade sausage quesadillas, and a chocolate souffle a la mode to die for. A parade had just finished in Greenfield, lending a festive air: white-vested morris dancers at the next table over jingled in time to the faint bar radio music as we ate, and a woman dressed up as a bellydancing djinn swished and tinkled in and out the door.

Few tasks remain before the summer mind takes back its worked-over body. There will be a few conference calls, a bit of light curriculum writing, some steelwoolgathering for the Bangladesh trip -- also a visa application to prepare and send, a trip to the doctor for serious shots. But the now-voluminious maple leaves beckon me with shade in the warm days, and a pair of newly google-found folk festivals pique my interest -- Great Waters, surprisingly close by in Wolfeboro, NH, and a zydeco/jamband festival called Great Blue Heron; brownie points will be granted anyone who can comment on either. The camper is cool, and the air sings with birds in the morning. Hoorah, once again, for summer; let the good times, as it were, roll.

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Green Tea
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