Saturday, August 29, 2009


The storm began last night. By noon the rain came down in rattling gusts. I spent the day inside, reading "The Master" by Colm Toibin, and painting--watercolor--while rain came down through the vent in the bathroom ceiling. At home it must be coming down the chimney, as it always does in a northeaster, a storm that seems to weaken and then comes back stronger.

Tonight we'll have supper at the cafe at the Mews, and pack for our trip home. I once heard Seamus Heaney call Provincetown, "the Left Bank of New England." The Left Bank when the phrase meant Bohemia.


  1. I envy you your rainstorm. Today my wife and I have laid about, stunned from the heat.

    But I had my revenge with cold shrimp salad and hummus and cucumbers in yogurt and feta cheese and fresh lemon sorbet!

    I wish that I could say that I ever heard Seamus Heaney ever call anyplace anything at all, but I have not.

    So you have me there, my girl.

    all best-


  2. We ate hot chowder. It's murky today. I bet it's never murky where you are.

  3. Oh I too envy your rainstorm! We had such heavy black clouds yesterday but nothing but murk. My garden continues to uncontain itself. My other star lily is now open and it's heavenly.

    Sometimes it rains so hard here it pours down my chimney and the fire hisses and sometimes it makes a howling sound which freaked me out when I first moved into this house here and heard it but now I adore that song.

    ps. Now I know what to do with all my 8 billion cukes, Scott. Thank you.

    Rebecca, waiting for autumn

  4. Fall has arrived here: bright, cool, under-the-blanket sleeping. Radish, I bet your poems will come uncontained.