The last two nights I have been so sleepy that I've barely been able to stay awake to write. Below you'll find both nights' output, slim though it is.
Maybe it's the weather, the rain and the fog, that's putting me into such a daze, but we need a lot less rain. A. Lot. Today there's no breeze so when I went into the soggy garden to check on my patty pan squash I was instantly Meals on Wheels for a battalion of mosquitoes. I managed to check on the squash and the tomatoes, even pick a couple cherry ones to sneak into my lunch without Durwood seeing, and get back into the sealed-up house with a minimum (2 or 3) of bites. It said in today's paper that with yesterday's rain we've surpassed the previous July record for the most rain--and there are 8 more days of July left. We're doomed. And I'm afraid the Roma tomatoes are doomed too, the three that I looked at have blossom-end rot. Now, there was an article about the effects of rain on gardens just the other day, maybe there's some rot-preventer we can spray or shake on. We need our Roma's for cooking and salsa. Need. Any ideas?
July 21--Fraueninsel. There were only two ways on and off the island. Two thin gray strips of concrete strung on pilings that held the roadways barely above the waters of Lake Chiemsee. Larissa crouched in the bushes that clung to the curve of the road along the coast.
July 22--Mahi, Seychelles. Idyllic, that's what it was. The long sweep of white sand kissed by the blue sea and the lush vegetation making everything green and fresh-looking. It was like a movie or a fantasy--except for the lifeless body floating face down in the shallows. No words emerged from my lips just a strangled
And that's it. Pathetic, no? I'll try to write better, or at least write more tonight. Stay dry today and stay away from hungry skeeters. They make you itchy.