OF THAT TIME, THERE IS STILL MUCH WE DO NOT KNOW

Back on the Port Jefferson-Bridgeport Ferry heading back to Brewster. It may be hella-warm but at least it is clear and I have hopes that the drive back will not be as confusing and harrowing as the one out here. The ferry is fairly empty, which was surprising both to me and the folks at the ticket office. The weather is so nice after several days of unpleasantness that people are making the most of it.

It looks so damned ATLANTIC over here, which I know it should. But I am such a Western girl, even after all these years (20 in December, save for a return sojourn to Berkeley for 20 months), that this environment still feels quite exotic to me.

Port Jefferson ferry pier.

John, Mel, and I grilled last night: some chicken and pork chops, and kind of everything else I could find from the post-viewing spread. I even grilled some pickles and they were not bad. The hit of the evening were the grilled sweet potatoes, which I cut into French fry shape, coated with olive oil and garlic, and then grilled. Simple and quite quite good. Next time I will get some kind of screen that keeps any of them from falling through the grill, but we did pretty well.

I also made sangria from the left over fruit and chardonnay sitting around. I guess I mentioned that yesterday. After dinner and after I wrote my post and Mel and John played with fireworks and watched the stars and fed the mosquitos, we just lazed around the living room, chatting and quaffing and listening to Calexico. An oasis of normality or emotional calm in the midst of the squalls of reality (you can tell I am on the water; when else have I used the word “squalls”?).

Well, I should do a little work on the graphic novel as I haven’t attended to it since Monday and I would like to be halfway through by this coming Monday. I started reading Tom Bissell’s Magic Hours in the hopes of finishing it soon. I was thinking about Mary at sixteen and her mother coming to the USA in 1938 and wishing I had spoken to her at greater length about her experiences. But this quote from Bissell seemed most appropriate:

“Of that time, there is still much we do not know.”

Mary's grape vine over arbor.

And, not so germane, but interesting:

“An artist can respect the backfield of fact before which every human being stands and choose not to address those facts.”

Sounds very much like the philosophy of one of my dearest and proudly Jesuitical  friends.

Mary's arbor.

Emmylou AND Cooder were so happy to see me! They are both curled up near me at my desk. i have been gone for the better part of the week, but I am here until next weekend, I think. Nice to welcomed.