I had an appointment with the propane guy at 1:00 today. At 9:15 he showed up unannounced, catching me still in my sleepclothes, teeth unbrushed- hair as wild as medusa, and not terribly happy to see him. Nonetheless, since he was here I conducted my business in the best possible way under the circumstances.  I had other errands to run, so once he was gone, I made myself presentable and set out to do them. While I was out it occurred to me what a nice day it is out there, and since I didn’t have to get back for the propane guy, why not go over to pick up my greens and poke around in Wilton . The drive over on the back roads was beautiful. The sun was shining, and I was enjoying the little things along the way – an abandoned birds nest in a branch, winterberries, an evergreen wreath on a red barn door, horses in the fields, and on it went. I put on some Christmas music and was completely in the zone. Once in Wilton I got my paperwhite bulbs and the greens I needed for the porch. Stopped briefly at White Home, and was on my way. Driving home with the windows down, car filled with evergreens and applejack, Christmas carols cranked at full tilt, and hair blowing in the breeze, I felt the complete joy of this day.  Sometimes the best things in life are spontaneous. Even if it means greeting the propane guy in your PJs.

It’s been a long time since I have had to go through airport security, and it wasn’t on my agenda for today either. Since my brother is blind, when he checked in at the airport he asked for an escort through security and to his gate. The woman at the desk told me I could go through with him and help him along. Since I hadn’t planned on it, I was hoping nothing in my purse would detain me…. a tube of sunscreen, keys, no, I seemed safe. The line took forever, and our one hour buffer was shrinking to about 20 minutes by the time they started scanning the bags. Again, since this was impromptu, I had no socks and asked the guy if I still had to remove my shoes. He looked at me squarely and without flapping an eyelash, asked me if I was over 75. Fine. I took off my shoes and walked barefoot to the other side, thinking we were done. But no. Both my brothers carry on bags were flagged as needing more scrutiny. I asked him what the heck he had brought in his bags that was a security flag. 2 pounds of coffee, a bag of goya beans, a package of K cups and 2 health bars later we were on our way. Now we were down to about 10 minutes. Finally we got to the gate where the official escort had held his seat and led him off. Whew. I hi-tailed it through the exit, having gone through that whole thing with no destination other than my car and home.  I appreciate security, and know it’s a necessary thing. And no, I am not going to fly any where any time soon. 

We go out to eat often. Over time we have migrated away from chain restaurants and frequent more one of a kind and mom & pops establishments. A few observations –

Even if the food and service is good, the prices excellent, tne atmophere can sometimes be a deal breaker.  One such place we visit often. The problem is dirty windows. If they seat us next to a window I ask to be moved or draw the blinds. Eating a meal gazing out a filthy window at food spatters and dirt can depress the appetite quite a bit. How much effort would it take to hire a professional a couple times a year to clean those windows?

Decor. I know this is not a big deal for some, but tacky decor to me speaks of neglect. One place in Maine where we go ooccasionally ticks most of the boxes, but the decor is a nigntmare. Tnere are Christmas trees left up all year coupled witn tacky spring flowers , and a few odd other things thrown in the mix. It never changes. This says to me “we can’t be bothered, or we don’t care.” Again, it would not take a lot of effort to keep things fresh. And take down the Christmas decorations before Easter!

Flies. If I see. A fly buzzing around as soon as I sit down, the meal is already half gone for me. Not sure what to do about this one, except be aware and try to keep the flies out of the dining room, and even more importantly, the kitchen.

Tired surroundings. One place we go occasionally has good food, but tne surroundings are exhausting. The pictures on the walls are so faded they are literally the same color as tne walls. Paint people! A fresh coat of paint and some new pictures would do so much for so little effort!

On tne flip side of this, sometimes I am pleasantly surprised. I went for the first time last night to Thai Bamboo, half expecting to find a hole in the wall and not sure how tne food would be either. Turned out the food and service were excellent. The windows were clean. And no flies.

Set out for Maine Friday AM in a light drizzle which I erroneously thought might clear out as I traveled north. By the time I had crossed the bridge it was a steady, but tolerable downpour. Met up with Erin and we had some lunch in Kittery. If there was any illusion that the weather was going to improve, it ended there. By the time we got into Ogunquit the wipers were on high speed and visibility was nill. Pulling in to our hotel I overshot the driveway and ran up over the curb – first the front tires, then the back. Ouch. I am thinking to myself ###!! I hoped there wasn’t any damage, but it was raining too hard to check at that point. We checked in and decided to take a drive north to Wells and Kennebunkport. I immediately noticed my tire pressure light on, and thought maybe my mishap had something to do with it, so we pulled in to the closest station to check the pressure. Erin was trying to be reassuring- “front tire looks fine……” At the same time, our eyes went to the rear tire which was FFFFLLLAaaaaaattttttt. It was still pouring buckets as we stood there trying to assemble the jack and get out that little life saver tire they give you in the trunk. Erin was doing most of the assembling, and I was pacing in the rain feeling like a bonehead for running over the curb. We seemed to be missing one of the tools we needed and were getting nowhere but drenched, so I decided to lend a hand by going up to the gas pumps and look pathetic to try to enlist some help. I approached a young guy probably early 30’s with a truck who said he would help us out if we would please pull the car under the canopy (why didn’t we think of that?)  and in less than 10 minutes he had that little tire on and sent us on our way with instructions to find the nearest tire shop and get it properly fixed. He refused the money we offered him, and was on his way. Thank you kind stranger with the red truck. After a brief search, we found a shop about 6 miles away. Still pouring cats and dogs. We were soaked to the bone as we approached the 2 salty old men in the tire place. This was clearly a mom and pop shop, and the people there were most clearly from there. The one in charge was wearing a rain poncho down to his ankles. A man of few words. After a brief explanation from us, he rolled out the offended tire and sprayed it all around. In about 30 seconds he said “nope, can’t be fixed.” When it appeared no more information was forthcoming, Erin ventured another question “can it be replaced?” ” Yahp.” Again, nothing more. And so it went. We finally established that he did not have the right tire there but he could get one in a couple of hours. His cohort nodding approval from the sidelines. Long story short – we never did get the tire that day, but went back the next morning and ten minutes and $$ later were on our way.  Mr tire man by then had warmed up to us and was a chattering wealth of information about everything we could hope to know. The rain had stopped, the skies cleared, and the rest of the weekend was great and without incident. Another Maine adventure in the rain…..

I have never claimed to be a good driver because I’m not. But I am a cautious and conscientious driver. I rarely go beyond the speed limit., and except for that one time I was listening to the Red Sox game, and got a little heavy on the pedal – have only gotten the one speeding ticket.  I don’t text and drive or talk and drive, always pulling over and putting the car in park before I even look at my phone. I will drive 30 miles out of my way to avoid driving  on a major highway because traffic makes me nervous. I don’t drink and drive – always mindful of that. So I sound pretty safe, right? Well, technically. But I am still a distracted driver. And the reason for this? I am far more interested in what’s in peoples yards than where I’m going. In addition to being the seasonal police, I have an unusual obsession with what flowers are growing, what kind of curtains are in peoples windows, the cute arbor on the side of the house, and so on. And then there are the berries, the birds nests, and the wildlife! With so much going on around me, it’s hard to focus on the boredom of pavement. You would think night driving would offer less stimulii, but when it’s dark you can see what’s going on inside the houses with the lights on. Thankfully I drive pretty slowly, and even more so when I am making one of my observations. I have noticed though that whenever I offer to drive somewhere, Steve responds with a resounding NO. I wonder why that is?

Summers in New England are broken into three time periods that have nothing to do with the calendar. The first is the time between Memorial Day and the last week in July. This is “new summer”. Everything is fresh and new in the gardens. People get the first rush of smelling freshly mowed lawns, and burgers over charcoal grills. There are the parades and fireworks of two patriotic holidays, and everyone is planning their time at the beach or the mountains. The last period is between Labor Day and the first of October. The swamp maples are already crimson, and the sun is dipping below the horizon almost as soon as dinner is over. Cottages on the lakes are packed away for another season, and we are thinking about pumpkins and mums, Halloween and beyond. The time in between – from the very end of July to Labor Day is what my sister and I have come to know as the fifth season. It is the pause button on summer when subtle transitions take place. The air changes. The light at the end of the day becomes shorter. There are still hot days, but more often followed by cooler evenings. The nurseries transition to autumn fare, and any summer flower baskets look scraggly despite efforts to keep them fresh. Late afternoons are punctuated by the sound of crickets and cicadas. In the last couple of days I have seen some changes that the fifth season is nearing. Yes, it is still hot and muggy. The nights are still uncomfortable for sleeping. But the light at the end of the day has changed. I noticed last evening that it was completely dark at the time the sun was setting a month ago. August will bring more of the same. Each part of summer holds its own beauty, but I think I like the fifth season best. It’s a reminder of the colder, shorter days ahead, but also a reminder to pause and fully enjoy the bounty and beauty of what is still summer in its prime.