This blog, published free of charge since September 2007, is a way for me to stay in touch with seasonal bookstore visitors from afar and with all customers and friends when I am closed during the winter. My annual seasonal retirement will begin this year on November 1, and I expect to be back and open again by June 2021. Meanwhile, thank you so much for following Books in Northport and for supporting Dog Ears Books.
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Tuesday, July 9, 2013
If I Could Figure Out How to Blur This Title, I Would
Summer is always a blur --
year, come fall, whenever people ask (as they always do ask), “How was your
summer?” I answer, “It was a blur!” Because every year that’s just what it is.
The blur is a reliable phenomenon for those of us who work through the Up North
long, 4-day (this year) 4th of July weekend. People in business in
little tourist towns always feel that the 4th will never arrive, and then – suddenly!
already! -- it
is upon us!!!
This year the pace began at the beginning of the week and continued heavy
through Saturday, easing off by early Sunday afternoon as holiday-makers began
heading home. The Motovino/Lelu people mounted a four-day music festival,
“North by Northport,” the first in Northport history, with music at various
venues throughout the village. Music began before noon each day and continued
until at least midnight, sometimes beyond. Could this be our little town? Wow!
In the woods, under beech canopy
managed to get into the woods with Sarah each morning for restorative quiet,
where, thanks to our late, cool, slow spring, jack-in-the-pulpit had extended
its season into July, overlapping with wild leeks reaching their flowering
stage. It’s been a good strawberry year. Looks to be a good year for bramble
fruits, too. Sweet cherries are (already!) being shaken, but I don’t want to count the little
green plums on my tree, for fear of jinxing the crop.
the roadsides, coreopsis has come on gangbusters, black-eyed Susans are starting, and the first chicory added a
few lavender blue notes. Giant catalpa trees (not my volunteer “baby” one,
which must not have reached its sexual maturity yet -- can anyone tell me if this is the reason it lacks flowers?) have bloomed. Some are
hanging onto their orchid-like blossoms, while others have let them drop to the
ground, where white lakes of bloom have formed in the grass. In Northport, by
the creek, it’s the time of the Canada anemones. What else? Oh, little yellow
flowers are appearing on tall spires of mullein, and most farmers got their
first cutting of hay baled and in the barn before Sunday night’s rain.
seems ages since I started writing a post – not yet finished -- about
contemporary short fiction, and then I got completely sidetracked and started
writing about “valley fever” and soil erosion and haven’t finished that,
either. I’m reading letters by Carl Van Vechten, a book about his grandfather
by Peter Singer, Thomas Egan’s story of the American Dust Bowl, a tale of
French cheese, Confessions of a Taoist on Wall Street, and I can’t remember what-all
else, bouncing from one book to another whenever I can sneak 10 minutes from
other tasks. And so my reading life has become a blur, too.
being the case, it was a relief to have a rainy Monday and to have Bruce spell
me at the bookstore so David and I could pretend we were “on vacation” for a
few hours. Sarah missed a morning play date (called on account of rain), but
she didn’t know it, so there was no whining. There would be more pictures today
if my camera battery hadn’t run down too far. Maybe a vacation from the camera
was good for me, too. As you may have noticed, all the images today are very quiet and calm, so they are not at all representative of the past week.
But that's it: only
one week of July is past, I remind myself. Really, summer has only just begun.
Please, tell me it’s only just begun!