"Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language."
With weather like we've had--no humidity and low summer temperatures--these afternoons have been glorious. I've never been a lover of hot and muggy, and this 1792 house has no air conditioning. So open windows letting in summer breezes have had me smiling.
Thursday I had an especially magical summer afternoon. Annabelle and our French visitor Julie drove north to NH for my reading with Deirdre Heekin in the beautifully restored Canaan Meeting House. But first we got to eat and drink and visit with the fabulous Phil Pachoda, father of fabulous writer Ivy Pachoda, at his home. Annabelle and Julie spent the whole time in the pond as the sunlight filtered through pine and birch, all of it like walking into a postcard of NH. (Please read Deirdre Heekin's book, An Unlikely Vineyard!) Deirdre and I read to a full house of avid readers later that evening. And the wonderful Norwich Bookstore was there with our books (thank you, Penny!) Yes, magical.
We three spent a cozy night at The Lyme Inn before heading south the next day. And while the girls went off to see Minions, Taylor Polites and I had another gorgeous summer afternoon, this one in Mystic CT. Trade trees and mountains for ocean and sailboats, but keep the glorious temperature. At the always lovely Bank Square Books with Thomas Cobb and Pablo Rodriguez, we celebrated Providence Noir:
Now rumor has it the hot humid days are coming soon, and I'll be cursing Mr James: what's so beautiful about this?
So I'll just look forward to my upcoming weeks teaching in Dingle, Ireland and at Bread Loaf in VT.
And I'll put my head down and go into revision mode on my new novel, which I hope to have done by the time I head to Bread Loaf (which means it's coming with me across the sea to Ireland).
Summer afternoon, summer afternoon...