Midsummer's Rude Reverie

A beauty of a day, this day. Clear, breezy, hot in the 80s certainly, but not stultifying, with low humidity. Pretty soon, the people who decried the rains of May will be complaining about the drought. Just wait. As for us, in a time warp known as Time for Change. Certainly it is true that the more things change, the more they remain the same. Sally and the dogs are headed to Westchester and the unsold home there, while Sophie and I are now in Providence, once again, though we have had the privilege of going to and forth from Little Compton this past week, due to the fact that one of the family's houses has not been rented for July. And that means we have been at the beach nearly every day, swimming in the perfect-temperatured, seaweedless waters of Warren's Point. I have just returned from a long, offshore sail from Little Compton to St. John's, Newfoundland, a welcome, if undeserved interuption from the grind of being here in an apartment, unemployed just being me. I am feeling that sinking sort of feeling. Thankfully, it is summertime and nature provides an antidote to being closeted and cosseted indoors. But, goodam, it's high time for change. St. Joseph points his hand to the front door of our house. St. Joseph, I beseech you: do your thing!