winter looms

Well, Mom, it is indeed a little colder at night now. I agree that it's nice to have some dryer air. Don't want too much cold yet, though. Tomatoes ripen better with warmer nights, and the world is about to turn to tomatoes.

I still have six student visits next week, but they will probably mostly be late in the day (after school), so I can devote mornings to tomatoes. Still have to finish up the beans, too. We have 26 bags in the freezer and I'm hoping for 10 more. Then need to get the carrots out (wash and refrigerate for the winter) and leeks (ditto). It's get-ting pret-ty near the end.

Anyway, speaking of temperatures, here are the record lows for this time of year:

August 30: 45
August 31: 40
Sept 1: 36
Sept 2: 42
Sept 3: 32
Sept 4: 39

I want you all to appreciate the fact (Marty surely will) that these lows are all the same year, 1974! Marty and I arrived only a few days before that and we had no heat in our house, because after the trip (and repairing a cracked head on my Datsun) we didn't have enough money to pay the deposit to the gas company. So we drove to the Marion Street Sears and used my Sears card to buy a space heater, which we huddled around for those nights. Having just come from Florida it was particularly painful!

It was still cold throughout the month. One evening a week or so later Marty and I hopped into the car on a Sunday evening to go downtown to the Dairy Bar for an ice cream cone. Neither of us put on a coat or even a sweater. When we went back out, the car wouldn't start. Damn! I'd just beggared myself having it fixed (this time the starter was kaput), and here we were, a mile and a half or so from our house, it was cold, and we had no wraps of any kind. I used the phone in the Dairy Bar and called Don Berg and Jim Rupert (the only two people I knew in town); neither of them was home. By that time the Dairy Barmaid could tell that I was having trouble. "No problem," she said. "I'll find someone to drive you home." The next person in was driving south, but the person after that was headed north. I accepted the ride. First we had to nip into Emma's bar (my first time through those hallowed doors) so my ride lady could get change for a bake sale. (We didn't have a beer or anything.) Then we headed home. As we talked, it turned out that the woman knew all about me. Her sister was in one of my French classes, and her daughter was a classmate of Marty's. This was my initiation to life in a small town. I found it a little strange and scary, really, but it was nice, too. I still see this woman from time to time (Mary Wilmot). She became a German teacher in Hudson. The sister, Peggy, married (and later divorced) the son of someone that Charlie works for now. The daughter, Jolly, went on Quarter Abroad with Charles Lonie in 1987. See what I mean about the small town. (If I've already blogged this tale, please forgive me.) Oh, and might I add that my landlady that year was Charlie's first cousin, Gevevieve Rugo. He and the others referred to my place as "the French teacher's house." The Rugo son, Seth, was a classmate and friend of Marty's later on. That first fall, when I was contemplating finding another place to live, the person who showed me a house (which I decided not to move to) turned out to be Genny Rugo's sister, Aloha Joan Hovde. First time I ever heard Charlie's mother's maiden name. Oh, and Mary Wilmot's father, Judge McEwan, was my landlord for the next couple of years, the house on State and Charlotte. I could go on and on with these kinds of links . . . .

But instead I'll start getting ready for my pique-nique for the French exchange student and his host families. Julia will be here too, getting a ride out with her French teacher. First load of laundry just got done. Time to go hang it out.