Rain. Rain.

AMR, on coming outside at 7:45 pm to see what I was up to: well, it's summer. It was 85 degrees then. And humid like the inside of a dishwasher.

It rained yesterday. That humidity hung on all night, such that we had some kind of hazefog through at least the nine am hour, but it rained, it rained, it rained. We're going with better than half an inch here, even though yours truly was in Burlington, where it did not rain, and so I can't quite vouch for our numbers. However: the official ANYLF gauge has been good enough all year, and all of last year and the year before, so we'll have to just go on and trust it.

I'm going to do something ridiculous: I'm going to say it's going to rain tomorrow. It's going to rain tomorrow.

Planted a white coneflower tonight. In mid-July. That's as ridiculous as saying it's going to rain.

Oh, dry spell. Are we about to break out of that? Cherry tomatoes starting to yield in the back yard. Pages coming like teeth being pulled. Is there another book? There may, may, may be another book. There are at least tomatoes. That much we know for sure.

That damn weird green glad is still blooming out there.