Summers here are luscious, wild, honeyed, ripe. The wind is cool and unhurried at times, and at times it whips about with an unbridled fury. The mosquitoes are out bad now, in our backyard especially. Someone just loves to dump old tires in the alley behind our house, and they fill with water, and it's like mosquito Shangri-la. Our garden is tired and overgrown; it grew nearly twice as quickly as it did last year, and puckered out early too. We got about five thousand cucumbers and some pretty striped fairytale eggplants, and some fat green tomatoes that may or may not make it. My sweet, sweet friend Susan had my pal Evie and I over for dinner on Tuesday, and her garden is magnificent. A complete inspiration. Susan roasted a chicken, and everything else at our table was plucked from or dug out of the ground: purple carrots, tiny tomatoes, vermillion beets and nasturtium flowers. It was so truly wonderful.
I have a big batch of yarn to put in the shop that I'm going to have a hard time parting with. It's all mill-spun, in a variety of different weights and fibers. I mordanted and dyed it in the sun, in big glass-lidded pots, with crushed blackberries. The color is…oh, my word, it is my favorite color ever. It's like a pale, moon-silvered pink-lavender. Like dusk. Like spun sugar.
What are you up to this weekend? Manley's birthday is tomorrow and we are driving down to the Alabama Gulf coast to spend the weekend with my family, on Oyster Bay, a mile from the Gulf. I'm so happy…I have no plans except to 1. Bake a cherry pie and 2. Fall asleep on the beach. Hope all of you have a real sweet one. I'll send out a newsletter when the yarn goes up for sale. Good night! xx