Monday, June 26: Sunny and not very humid. This is probably the kind of day that Henry James meant when he said, “Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” All I can say is that this dude was for sure not from Virginia, because summer afternoons here are typically hot, humid, full of bugs and mosquitoes — i.e., pretty miserable.
Except for today. Today was nice. Today was the kind of summer afternoon you get in England . . . I guess. Maybe particularly if you’re going to spend a 72-degrees-Fahrenheit sunny day playing croquet and drinking lemonade (that some poor kitchenmaid spent an hour squeezing the lemons for) and eating cakes and smelling the roses that the undergardener has been fertilizing and trimming and babying for two months.
Maybe that was a little snarky. Maybe watching Downton Abbey was too much for this poor vulgar colonist. (Maybe Henry James can just suck lemons.)
SOTD was Marc Jacobs Daisy. Studied for the math portion of the GRE (all the practice tests I’ve taken put me at about 91-95% correct on the verbal reasoning portion, so I’m focusing on math for now. My math skillz are so very rusty. 🙁 Walked for about an hour at the park, while Taz was at evening cross-country conditioning.
Tuesday, June 27: Another nice day, spent much the same as yesterday, except that I only walked 25 minutes because my feet hurt, and the SOTD was Penhaligon’s Violetta, all greeny violet and cool and aloof. I think it’s probably time to put some of my spring scents away now that it’s getting hotter. Will change out the contents of the hatbox soon.
They’re making hay in the Pond Field, so Gaze has put his sheep into the shop lot near the house. The donkey refused to come in with them, so now the sheep and the donkey are grazing comfortably on either side of the fence between the two fields. But there’s a sheep missing, and we can’t figure out where it’s gone. Snuck out under the gate and gone down the road? (But sheep mostly don’t like to be alone; they tend to feel very vulnerable without the herd.) Gone into a neighbor’s field, scared by the noisy racket? We don’t know, but there are twelve sheep where there should be thirteen.
Wednesday, June 28: Another nice day. Taz started behind-the-wheel driver instruction today — he was eligible to do that last summer after he finished the classroom portion in June, but we were so busy with taking Gaze on his college scouting/service academy visits and with the Hawai’i trip that we couldn’t get it scheduled. He’s doing it now, though.
I walked at the high school while Taz was running. It was hot even at 6:30 pm, bleargh. SOTD was Lumiere Noire pour femme (about the only patchouli-forward frag I really like, and even then it’s at least as much rose/narcissus as patch).
Thursday, June 29: Hot. I walked 2.12 miles at a different park while Taz was at driving class. No scent of the day today.
The CEO has been invited to give a presentation on agriculture on Kauai next month, and he would like me to go with him, so we’re planning that trip now.
The CEO’s mom has given us her old rope hammock, since the two trees that used to hold it have been cut down (and that’s a super long story I will tell another time). We have decided, in the tradition of naming household items with puns, to call it MC Hammock. The CEO is now wont to say, “It’s MC Hammock time.
Yeah, I live with that.
Friday, June 30: Cloudy/rainy. SOTD is MJ Daisy again, which I still do like, but honestly? it’s a little boring. I want something that really smells like cut grass drying into hay. The closest I’ve ever been able to come is DSH La Fete Nouvelle, which is almost perfect, but the musk in it is too sweet and too insistent. It does get the drying-grass thing just right. Too often, perfumery “hay” is sweet and coumarinic and doesn’t highlight the fresh, green aspect.
FOUND THE SHEEP. Once the haying was complete in that field, Gaze turned the sheep back into it. The CEO went out this afternoon and found them having a siesta under the big hickory tree near the gate, just chilling. He counted them: one, two… fifteen. Fifteen?
Saturday, July 1: The boys cleaned their rooms and then headed off to go tubing with friends. The CEO cleaned off the porch and did laundry. I cleaned bathrooms and mopped floors. I worked on revising my novel — it’s July Camp NaNoWriMo! — and made fish tacos for dinner, then went for a walk. SOTD was Jacomo Silences, the old parfum de toilette. Gorgeous. It’s like walking around in a rose garden, after the evening shade has fallen.
The walk did not go well; I had to stop after just a few laps of the asphalt trail around the ball fields at Randolph Park. That’s the second time in a week that walking there has hurt my feet and ankles, so I won’t try walking that spot again. There are some trails that go into the woods there that are paved with that tiny gravel*, which doesn’t hurt my feet as much but the gravel bits get into my shoes and annoy me. Funny, though, that the asphalt trail at Rasnake Park near the Lions Club didn’t bother my feet at all.
*The CEO keeps calling it “pea gravel,” but it’s smaller and less round than what I think of as pea gravel, so the bits that manage to get between my shoe and my sock are pointy and painful. Ow.
Sunday, July 2: We began our church’s month of having services at the lake today. Claytor Lake State Park has a tradition of offering Sunday church worship, held by local churches, at 9 am near the gazebo site, and we do it in July. Sit in a lawn chair in your shorts, bring a cooler full of lemonade to share, sing about Jesus… what’s not to like?
SOTD is Silences again, which is like portable air-conditioning, or at least that handheld, battery-powered fan that I’ve taken to carrying in my purse, in case of Hot Flashes in Public…