It has been ages since I picked up my knitting. Then I started reading Michelle Obama’s new book, The Light We Carry: Overcoming in Uncertain Times. This is what she had to say about knitting:

When everything starts to feel big and therefore scary and insurmountable, when I hit a point of feeling or thinking or seeing to much, I’ve learned to make the choice to go toward the small.

Several months ago I read about a new venue in the Berkshires, Bondhu, which means friend in Bengali, and signed up to attend a themed lunch, “Bites From Books.” I had no idea what to expect.

How much of my “own” story is my family and tribal story? I fought against much of what I perceived as the narrowness of my upbringing, and yet it was that upbringing that gave me the strength and self-confidence to forge a new sense of self.

Last Spring, I complained about the switch to Daylight Savings Time. Losing an hour of sleep and dark mornings usually make me grouchy for at least a week.

My friend, an avid photographer, suggested we visit the ruins of the Brooksbrae Brick Factory to take pictures. Located in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, the ruins have become a well-known spot for graffiti artists.

I recently got my heating and cooling usage report for September. I had five hours of additional heating compared to last year and four hours of additional cooling.

September in the Berkshires is a month when I do not expect to use heating or cooling.

Last week my daughter and I had apple cake crumbs for dessert. No, that is not a typo. I did not mean apple crumb cake

This past weekend I attended the Authors Guild Foundation’s first “Words, Ideas and Thinkers Festival, Reimagining America.” Novelists, historians, journalists, and scientists confronted racism, climate change, the future of the Supreme Court, foreign policy, and identity and belonging, all in the context of their writing.

At Selichot Services last night I realized that the melodies we chant once a year had, after many years, become familiar to me.

Last week I ended my post, Summer’s End, with the observation that at my age “new beginnings are unreliable.”

This morning I sat on my front porch listening to the insistent buzzing of the bees, drinking greedily from the turtleheads, the late blooming flowers that signal the end of summer in my garden.

Dear readers,

I’m taking break!

I can remember the days before the “wind chill factor.” I would listen to the radio (those were also the days before cell phones and weather apps) to learn the temperature and plan accordingly.

Last week, however, I saw a film, “Hello, Bookstore,” that went a long way toward restoring my faith in humanity.

As I sat quietly, alone, I was enveloped by peace and serenity. What better way to enjoy the waning moments of a day of rest and contemplation?

Tomorrow is July 4th. A day for flags, parades, barbeques, and fireworks. A day to celebrate the Declaration of Independence and the founding of the United States of America. A day I have been anticipating with anger and despair.

I found a team of women who were inducted into the Hall of Fame this year because of their invention, patent 4, 174, 717, the “athletic brassiere.”