The Red Sox have won two in a row against Toronto, and I was in a sky box at last night's game, along with several other Houghton Mifflin Harcourt authors and editorial people...plus my son Ben, Red Sox fan extraordinaire.  He and I are both remember how once, about 20-some years ago, I took him with me to a Sox game and then out to dinner with the RS third baseman Wade Boggs --- a real thrill for Ben  (the reason for dinner was that  Boggs and I were both involved with the MS Society; his sister had MS as did my daughter)

Morning glories always seem to be at their finest just before the first frost...and the air feels as if the first frost is on its way soon.

Coming soon, from the American Library Association:

BBW celebrates the freedom to choose or the freedom to express one’s opinion even if that opinion might be considered unorthodox or unpopular and stresses the importance of ensuring the availability of those unorthodox or unpopular viewpoints to all who wish to read them. After all, intellectual freedom can exist only where these two essential conditions are met.

and because I mentioned in an earlier post the fact that Sarah Palin had at some point attempted to remove some books from the library in the town where she was mayor ... I want to correct and/or amend that.   This is from the CBS news website:

...

Oh no!  My son Ben and I went to the local pub-with-a-huge-screen yesterday to watch the Patriots game and there we sat in disbelief watching Tom Brady's injury.  Well, let us see what the Pats do in terms of making lemonade out of a lemon (what a stupid analogy. Sorry.)    It was a full sports day, with the Red Sox win as well, and then in the evening the Serena Williams win at the US Open. Not to mention this thumb-wrestling tournament at my breakfast table yesterday morning:

Oct. 18-Nov. 9 "GOSSAMER"

Owen CareyWinter Wagner, Chase Klotter and Vana O'Brien In "Gossamer" at the Oregon Children's Theatre

Adapted by the Newbery award-winning children's author Lois Lowry from her 2006 novel, "Gossamer" tells a story at once magical and wrenching, taking place on both sides of the veil of sleep. In the wakeful world, an unemployed single mother, a troubled boy and a caring foster parent struggle with the scars of abuse and loss. In the realm of night, spirit creatures gather fragments of memory from people, blend them and bestow them as dreams.

But things are not simple and safe even within our slumbers. Co-commissioned by Oregon Children's Theatre, along with First Stage Children's Theater of Milwaukee, it's a fascinating, lyrical tale that doesn't shy from life's darker truths (it's recommended for ages 10 and up) yet treats them with sensitivity and heart. Stan Foote directs a fine cast including Vana O'Brien, Gary Norman and Rebecca Martinez. Winningstad Theatre, 1111 S.W. Broadway; $16-$24;www.ticketmaster.com, 503-790-2787 or 503-228-9571

Here's the back lawn at sunrise on an early September morning. This is the best time of year here with the tourists gone home (I know I know, I'm a "summer person"myself) though it means the Lobster Pound has closed for the season and the summer theater is dark now as well.   Birds are still singing (and cawing) early in the morning, and flowers are still blooming in the gardens, but somehow things are quieter, slower, as Summer winds down and Fall moves in.

I hated writing those three words. End of Summer.  As it always does, it has gone by too quickly. I am here in Maine for 10 more days, alone now after company coming and going for the past three weeks, catching up now on neglected writing, and starting to put the house to sleep for the winter: ACs out of the windows; Adirondack  chairs off the lawn and into the barn; Furnace Guy coming for Fall furnace cleaning; Exterminator Guy coming with his ward-off-mice methods. (I feel them gathering outside, preparing their attack: "You three dozen over there, you get in under the garage door and head for the laundry room"; "You twelve big guys, you enter through a basement window, then go directly to the pantry; start with the box of Bisquick; gnaw on the lower corner" etc. etc.)

...and I've been away from this blog longer than I'd like.  Much company here at the farm...women friends coming and going, and overlapping, last week; then Martin came up Friday and stayed till yesterday (Wednesday) and while he was here some good friends form Brookline,MA came for three days.  All of that is TMI, as kids say...too much information...but it is also an apology for ignoring the blog, and also ignoring working for too long.  I am alone here, now, and getting back into the routine of writing.

Thanks to Oprah for including THE WILLOUGHBYS on her "Recommended Kids' Books" list!

It has rained continuously for two weeks, though finally...FINALLY.... the sun has been out for two days. Here (below) is one of those miraculous moments that happens sometimes when you are about to scream. Can you see the rainbow? It's a little faint because it took me some time to run and find my camera, and the original brilliance had begun to fade.

...and for Kay, and Mara, and Middy, and Jean, and Susan...all women friends who are coming up to Maine this week for a visit.  It is the height of blueberry season and these came from a twenty-minute stint out in the field behind my house.

The hardest part of blueberry picking is not the picking, but the cleaning afterward...all those teeny twigs and leaves!

Last weekend, in Maine, I began hearing sounds in an unused chimney that runs behind the kitchen stove. At one time, obviously, there had been a woodstove there because there is still a (covered) opening where a stovepipe had once been connected.  I was afraid, though, to take that cover off because I was afraid an entire family of trapped squirrels would leap out at me if I did. The noise...chirping, chittering, skittering...was periodically very loud, other times completely silent.  Finally I called Tom, my exterminator, who previously had had to deal here only with the ubiquitous mice, plus once with powder-post beetles in the barn. He said he'd come Friday.

I have actually been at my desk today for six hours straight, working, writing, with only a few internet excursions...one, to look at trips to Rapa Nui (Easter Island), a place I have always dreamed of going. Most people say, "you want to go WHERE?"  but finally I have a friend who says she'll go with me if we can both find the time, etc.  My own schedule is pretty self-defined because I am self-employed, but of course I have a ton of conferences and speaking engagements on my calendar.  And my partner-in-crime is a university professor so she has to work around that.  But I bet we can do it...sometime....if we put our minds to it.

OKay, this is procrastination of the worst kind.  I should be working.  But I sat down early this morning with a cup of coffee and the local weekly small town paper.  And the NY Times, as well; I went to the store at 7 AM, when it opens, to get the Times; I can't get it delivered here, the way I do at home.  But somehow on a summer morning in rural Maine, it is the local paper that holds my interest.

I saw off my German family last night at the airport....Nadine, age fourteen, goes back school early in August, I hope with some very happy memories of Montana. She was practically glued to the saddle; on our last day there, she rode 17 miles on a trail in West Yellowstone.  Now she says she prefers Western style to English, which she has ridden since she was six, but it would be tough to find Western type riding in Germany.

Today I drove back to Maine with Alfie....one of the worst drives I've ever had up here: torrential rain all the way.  Usually a 3 hour trip, it took close to four and a half. But here we are, and happy to be here, although it is still pouring and Alfie does not want to go outside.

Yesterday afternoon, here in Montana, my two grandsons and I hunkered down by the small stream that flows past my cabin. Using stones and twigs and sticks and plants, we built a miniature village with a wall around it, a sacred gate, a totem pole, two dwellings, a fire circle, and a path to the huge river, over which we built a bridge. We composed a chant involving the village crane (he was paper origami, nesting in a tree we had built from a forked stick) and then, chanting, we flew him to the river and let him sail away on its waves.

I have been in Montana for this past week, with children and grandchildren...and laptop...thinking I would get some work done (WRONG) while they were all off riding, etc...but instead it is all I can do to answer my email each morning.