Monday, July 21st

WHERE HAS the time gone like sand pouring too fast through an hourglass? I haven’t had a clear day at the desk for what seems like weeks. Partly taking Tamas four early mornings to the vet’s (the wound has healed but he developed a horrid sore on one leg, an allergy to the anesthetic, apparently, and of course he too suffers from the heat), partly the long drought has meant hours of dragging hoses. It’s not an easy garden to water, as there are many single small borders scattered around, as well as bushes such as azaleas that have to be watered separately. But at last we had a deluge all night and into the morning. And that constant anxiety, as I held a million thirsty roots in my consciousness, has lifted.

Most of the last week went in making my semiannual pilgrimage to see Marynia Farnham in her nursing home in Brattleboro—no one has been there to see her since I went before Christmas! The trip entails visits to the Nelson neighbors, and a night away, and this time I brought a friend back with me for two nights; so altogether it ate up most of the week. Nelson is still unspoiled. I was moved as I drove past the cemetery (where I shall be buried) and down into the center, very still and leafy on that hot afternoon, moved to hear how beautifully Nancy and Mark Stretch (who bought my house there) are fitting into the village. They have done what I dreamed of doing—they have had the rocks bulldozed out of the big field and now have a huge vegetable garden started. I feel blest that the right people have come to live in the house. I shall not own a house again, so it is still “home” in some ways. But I have no regrets. More than ever I realize that it was time to leave. The tide of my Nelson was ebbing even three years ago. The Stretches bring youth and strength and their own spirit of adventure to the village, sorely needed … and they are such hard workers! Win French told me that Mark has helped with the haying and worked well; he also helps deliver mail now and then.

I reached Marynia only to find that she had, that very morning, fallen and broken her hip. I stayed by her side for a half hour, holding her hand, while they sent for an ambulance … and, when I called later that night from here, was told that it was a fractured hip and she will be in the hospital for some weeks. She was marble white, her face entirely unwrinkled, very serene, though she was obviously in pain, rocking her knees back and forth to try to find a comfortable position and talking to herself in a low voice. I believe she recognized me, but am not sure.