Films often end on the same scenes of their opening, a kind of hint to the audience to what is coming. In my case, I hauled muck this morning, just as I did in the spring. I skimmed it from the areas of the swamp I’d not used before because of frogs and salamander eggs, and then dumped it on one of my garden beds. Most of the beds are in use, especially the one I’d built earlier, which is growing one huge zucchini plant, and three potato plants. It has a squash as well, but that isn’t doing as well and I doubt anything will even grow on that before I leave. The other bed has a number of plants but none are productive except for the two bean plants that have survived the rabbits. The peas there died and the squash, zucchini, and cucumber aren’t productive at all. I should have planted them on that plot first and avoided the raised table bed I tried as an experiment in slug avoidance.
After it started to warm up, I took apart a strange flat frame I’d picked from the side of the road and stowed the wood and screws. I also took apart my band saw and repaired the broken band that has meant I haven’t used it all summer. I just wrapped electrical tape around it, but it seems to have worked and was much easier than I’d thought it would be.
In the afternoon I worked on my first novel and hid from the heat. It was over ninety outside, which is in the thirties, and inside it went as high as eighty, or twenty-five. At its worst, I took a nap and read, and tonight I have a plan to open the door to the new part and let it cool down in here. Tomorrow is supposed to be hot as well.
