Rain

September 5, 2011

Suzanne writes:

I think it was about 37 years ago tomorrow we met in a TA meeting at SU, with the prof (whose name, but not face, escapes me at the moment--he was a gentle sort) who supervised the TAs; he was filling us in on our duties and charges. I mostly remember you and Sally and Tom Gardner (hadn't they spent the summer on the Hudson River on Pete Seeger's boat?) How I wish I had been more mature and able to take my space there. But how thankful I am that you befriended me, slow and silly girl that I was, and granted me this gift of your friendship for all the years that have passed. I hope you've plunged safely and smoothly back into the academic year. Let me know what you're up to.

I hadn’t thought that this date was any sort of anniversary, but Suzanne’s remembrance brings it back. I had been told less than a week before that I should be there, as I had actually (with a sense of desperate fatalism) applied for the following year. The Baltimore debacle had proven difficult to rise above. But there I was. I, like her, remember that first meeting, which seemed so portentous of our lives to come. Latched on to Tom immediately as a sort of cosmic complement to myself. No one in the room frightened me. That was the first time I’d felt invincible. Liked the feeling. Cultivated it.

Sweet rain comes in the wake of tropical storm Lee. Bought a huge water garden tank at Jesse Israel’s, and the last cinnamon fern on the shelf, which looked so lonely and scraggly I had to adopt him. He (the fern) got planted in pouring rain, beside his own kind and a pair of hart’s tongues. When I looked at him again he was stiff and healthy and as demonstratively happy as a plant can be.

The house is crawling with the tiniest brown ants. Maybe driven inside by the rain. Two scurry across the keyboard as I type.

Assembled a new book of poems, The Ones with Difficult Names.

CoCo and Tom stopped by with a yogurt pie for my birthday.

L sent me a video series from Great Courses on Wine. In the course of an evening it gave me a new hobby. I’d thought wine connoisseurship was a lot of hooey, but the lady on the video revealed what all those terms mean, and that they refer to things actual and objective. So, I got the one bottle of real wine I had in the house (an Italian red which did not list the grapes used) and scrutinized it carefully, looking, sniffing (chest, chin, nose), tasting. Not much fragrance, notably acidic, sort of bland (but in a pleasing way) with the slightest petroleum overtones (again, pleasant) and a dignified, satisfying aftertaste. Guessing that at least some of the grapes were cabernet sauvignon. Bought a French pinot noir and a golden prosecco for the next round. From now on I shall be insufferable.