Seventy-nine degrees, rain. The first time the temperature has been below 100 since June. The oppression of heat breaks for the nonce. Yesterday, when the first gust front came through and the rain began, James and I meandered around outside and ate our first purple grapes from our own vines, then we started experimenting with our new distiller. It's a gorgeous hand-made copper contraption straight out of the Middle Ages and came all the way from Portugal. One might think we were going to try making our own liquor, but we have different plans. I'm not allowed to mention it by name yet.
All week, I took a break from the novel project and thoroughly enjoyed typing up the opening pages of a new project. I won't make too much of it, b/c I've started things like this before and not finished them. On the other hand, these characters and their situation are clicking better than any I've written for a long time, so I'm hopeful that I'll actually get to write "The End" on it one day. I usually hate writing rough drafts, but so far I've not felt bogged down by details or lack of direction. We'll see...
Point is, the blessings keep coming. Such prolonged happiness is a gift.
The only cloud has been my husband's grandfather. It's heartbreaking to see the patriarch so strong and able one day and an old man the next. It puts human frailty and mortality on the table for us all to examine. Hamlet scrutinized a skull. I've been watching a man come to terms with his age. The difference between men and babies being fussed over is that babies have yet to gain a sense of dignity that must be swallowed. A bitter draught.