We’re in the dog days of summer here in Mahoosuc Mills. Sure, we’ve had our share of hot, sticky days and some wicked thunder boomers, but I don’t mind all that much. Because you know what? For every one of those scorchers, we have two or three perfect summer days. Charlie calls those “a bluebird of a day.” And when we get one, I’m savoring every minute of it. Charlie and me have been eating dinner on the deck most every night, looking out into the back yard, watching the birds and our chubby groundhog who lives under the shed. Between bites, one of us always seems to say, “We’re pretty lucky, you know that?” …

Charlie and me have a nice rhubarb patch in our yard. My mother give us some as a house warming present. Every summer, I make one, maybe two strawberry-rhubarb pies. I intend to do more with my rhubarb, but time gets away from me and all of a sudden it’s too late. I’d cut some and give it to friends, but most everyone I know up here has their own patch of rhubarb, and those who don’t, usually aren’t real partial to the stuff. Personally, I love it! Rhubarb reminds me of when I was little. Sure, we had rhubarb pies in season, but we also always had rhubarb sauce on hand. I guess nowadays …

I know, things are starting to open up again. But some of the pictures from Memorial Day weekend were just crazy. You saw them: groups of people at a lake, shoulder to shoulder, carrying on like everything was back to normal. Nope, ‘fraid not. We gotta be smart about this, people, or we’re going to end up in a big mess. Again! My niece Caitlin is my insider for all things New Age-y, and she’s always talking about “doing things with intention.” That sounds kind of woo-woo, sure, but it’s not. It just means doing things on purpose. You know, thinking about what’s important to you and following through sensibly. Yeah, we’re all going a …

Boy, we’ve had some wicked thunder boomers lately! The middle of the night kind, where that clap of thunder is so loud, you levitate out of bed. Thank goodness, our little dog Scamp is unfazed. He just sighs and rolls over. I wish Charlie and me could do the same. It’s like that thunder has breathed new life into us. Then there’s the storms that happen late in the afternoon. The kind where Mahoosuc Mills turns from Vacationland to Stephen King territory in a few ominous minutes. You look one way, and it’s fine: sunny and full of promise. Then you turn your head and see the Apocalypse bearing down on you. The wind starts …

Babe Delahunt runs the Busy Bee Bakery with her husband Bud. It’s over on Main Street here in Mahoosuc Mills. They’re open for breakfast and lunch seven days a week during the summer. Babe’s a real peach, give you the shirt off her back. But she has a limited tolerance for snotty tourists and has her own unique way of handling them. I was in there the other day getting a coffee frappe (got to keep up my strength) when I witnessed Babe at her best. This fella from away barges in, talking on a cell phone like we all want to know his business. “Look,” he says, “I need to see some results in …

Charlie has joined the crowd of folks talking about the hot weather. But you know what? As complaining goes, poetry is a pretty fancy way of doing it. My hubby’s a keeper! “Don’t You Find This Summer Hot?”  Don’t you find this summer hot? I don’t feel like doin’ squat! Too hot for chores or barbequein’ None of that I feel like doin’  Getting’ up and goin’ fishin’? Nope, a cool one’s what I’m wishin’ For, Presto! Right here in my hand A beer to steer me to the stands Of Fenway, wouldn’t that be grand? To be up there with all the fans? Shy of that, I’ll sit here sippin’ On my ice cold, …

Seems like I’ve been wicked busy, but it’s that summer sort of busy. You know, the kind of busy where it feels like you’re on the go all the time, but don’t have much to show for it? Anyways, it’s been “hotter than Hades” here in Mahoosuc Mills. I’ve heard that more times than I can count while cashiering down to the A&P. This is from the same folks (no need to name names) who complain about the snow, the mud, the black flies, and the tourists, depending on the season. Complaining is what seems to keep these folks going, so this summer’s heat and humidity has been a whining bonanza. Now, these are the …

Last week, I shared Charlie’s poem about our good neighbor, Gus, who was kind enough to loan Charlie his mower while ours was in the shop. The adventure continued when the part came in, but Agway didn’t have time to install it. They figured they wouldn’t get to our mower for at least a few more weeks, so Charlie thought maybe he could install it himself. They gave him a demonstration on how to do it and everything. But you know what? Charlie’s getting wise in his old age. I’ll let him tell you about it.  Keep My Name on Your List  It’s height of the season, you know how it’s goin’: About every week, …

There’s a lot I love about living in a small town like the feeling of community, folks greeting you by name at the post office or down to the transfer station, everyone knowing your business. Well that last one, not so much. We’ve lived on our street for almost forty years. Sure some folks have come and gone, but there’s still a core of us old timers. It’s not like we socialize a whole heck of a lot. Sure, we’ll show up at a Christmas open house and every once and awhile we have a cookout. Mostly, we’re what I’d call neighborly. We look out for each other in a blizzard, stop and shoot the …

Why am I seeing apples on trees and yesterday at the Rite Aid, Halloween candy? That’s just not right! Summer just got started! The older I get, the quicker the seasons pass. Well, not winter. That one tends to linger, doesn’t it? While sweet, sweet summer is like a blink of the eye. Granted, this summer was a hot one. How hot was it? Well, it was so hot, you break a sweat just sitting there watching the tube. It was so hot, you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, bacon on the hood of your car: sizzling! It was so hot, my house has become a no underwear/no shoe zone. Just a loose …