A Wet One

My Sisters, Brothers In-Laws, Evie and Me

6:04

6:07

It's just 6:00 and I have been up for at least a half-hour, to a damp morning because of yesterday's downpours. The lake is calm, hardly a boat in sight, the sky a light blue with a tinge of pink, a few bird songs and the drone of air conditioners.  I am listening to Bill Simmons talk about the NBA draft on my headphones.  It's 8:15 and I had a good paddle, about an hour and photographed a couple of speckled sandpipers for the first time in weeks.  I also came across my neighbors, father and son, having an early morning swim, from Long Point to Woodlawn.   Four of us are sitting on the front porch, enjoying coffee, as the morning warms up.

Kayak Morning

A Specked Sandpiper

Yesterday was a typical rainy summer day as we had to stay off the dock, out of the yard until late afternoon when it cleared up for a couple of hours.  I did get in a paddle and went for a swim before breakfast.  Everyone was up when I returned from kayaking.  We sat on the front porch wondering when/if it was going to rain again.  I wanted to get a few things done, so I drove to Hogan's to pick up ice and put all the drinks in the cooler.  It began to rain around 11:00 briefly, enough to get my boat wet.

Sitting In The Rain

It then cleared up briefly, enough for me to dry the inside of the boat off with a towel and put on the cover.  I got in on just in time as it began to pour.  Evie, however, reminded me the umbrella was still up, as were the chaise lounges and it was not only raining but windy.  So I took off my shirt and ran out on the dock and put down the chairs and umbrellas.  It rained pretty hard, flooding the roads, filling the lakefront with muddy water once again.

Around 1:00, my sister Linda and her husband Rich arrived from Euclid, Ohio for the day and night.  They always bring us a couple of pounds of Slovenian sausages from Azman's Meats in Euclid.  They are the best and our kids love them.  We could not eat lunch outside, mostly leftovers, so we sat around the table indoors, enjoying soup, hotdogs and ham and cheese sandwiches.  Once the kitchen was cleaned up, we sat on the front porch and talked about our kids and grandkids as well as reminiscing about the good old days in Euclid growing up.  Finally, around 5:30, it cleared up enough to go out on the dock.  We sat out there for an hour, swimming, then enjoying the brief sunshine.

Ready For Evie's Moussaka

Around 6:00, Evie put the moussaka in the oven, having put together most of it the day before so that all she had to do was make a white sauce for the top.  We had cocktails and appetizers on the front porch as it rained again, not hard enough to send us off the porch.  About 8:00, we had dinner, a great moussaka, better than any Greek Taverna, at my request, with salad and garlic bread. After dinner, we sat around the living room, having a dessert of vanilla ice cream with strawberries and blueberries, a healthy end of the day.  We stayed up till 11:00 despite the fact we were all tired from the day.  Despite the rain, it was a good day at the lake.

Because we had eggplant moussaka for dinner, I had to include The Writer's Almanac poem from July 5th.  We love it.

Eggplant
by Richard Jones

I’ve never liked the taste,
which, I think,
is a shame,
because some days
when my wife goes to work
and I walk to the grocery store,
I stand in the produce aisle,
admiring those gorgeous
purple fruits––
wine colored,
sensuously curved––
and can’t help but reach out
and pick one up, just to hold it,
so silky smooth, so luscious looking
I almost fall in love,
but then remember
who I am:
a man not fond of eggplant.
Nonetheless,
I linger and look
and there in the bin
under the misters and lights,
I find it––
the perfect eggplant,
the glossy flesh unblemished,
meat firm under the fingers,
the stem and cap
bright green.
The fruit heavy in the hand,
I place the eggplant
in my cart,
taking special care,
knowing an eggplant is delicate
and wounds easily.
I carry the grocery bag home
through a light rain
and arrange the eggplant
on a white tablecloth,
the opulent purple orb
lustrous in the window light
and quietly beautiful
as if lying on satin sheets.
Then I sit in the wing chair.
The house grows dark
as the rain falls harder
and I wait for my wife
to come home from work,
shake off her raincoat,
turn on the lamp,
and behold the eggplant.