July 16, 2023

It has rained, and rained, and rained, and rained here in Maine since mid-June, and when it wasn’t raining, we’ve been fogged in. The rain and fog beats the hideous heat in the Southwest, the smoke in the middle of the country, the fires in the West, and the floods in New England and upstate New York, but we’re all a little soggy.

We had a summer of rain and fog when I was about 10, and my overwhelming memory of it is sitting on the floor day after day as the rain tapped on the roof and the windows were white with fog, with the friend I had known since we met in a playpen, building with my grandmother’s sets of faded mahjong blocks. We didn’t play the game itself. We built cities and roads and towers all over the floor, and then we knocked them all down and put the blocks back into their box in sets exactly as my grandmother had left them before we were born.

To this day, I could put those blocks back in perfect order, even though I still don’t know what the symbols mean or how the game is played.

And now, fifty years later, my friend and I are managing another rainy summer together, this time without the mahjong blocks— so far, anyway, although I know just where they are— but with lots more watery walks.

Stopping by her house for just such a walk had me standing in my friend's driveway a few days ago, where I caught this image in a puddle. I loved that it looked like a picture of a normal summer day... but it was reflected through rain.

It feels like this week is going to be busy. Going to take the night off and get a good night’s sleep to be ready for it.

I'll see you tomorrow.