Thursday, July 5, 2012
I am fretting. On the terrace early July looks more like late July. Or August. And the fall - FALL - anemones have buds on tall stems. The Abyssinian gladiolus show signs of blooming. The Iceberg rose, parched above the roaring air conditioner, looks as though it has been inducted into the marines by way of a severe buzz cut. Good grief. Global warming is happening right overhead.
And so I am awake well ahead of schedule after a tossed and turned night. I gave up and had coffee and jam and bread on the terrace ahead of the sunrise. It is already warm. I should go and help the farmers unpack their produce at Borough Hall. I have been craving tomatoes and perhaps the early ones have shown up, from Jersey. I want to eat them baked, stuffed with basmati rice and mint.
Maybe I'll make a cake, too. I know. Too hot. But cake is cake. Raspberry cake.
There's a thought.