Thunderstorms are coming, but thankfully, they haven’t made an appearance yet. We were able to sip our second cup of coffee out on the porch. The porch has become Chipmunk Central. Their nests are beyond this railing, down in the ground near the side garden, and they use the porch as their path to the big garden and everything that lies beyond. We are constantly amused by their antics, especially when they appear and, in mid-run, realize we’re there. Do they go back? Do they forge ahead? It’s adorable.

We did tell them that they need to clean-up their nuts after they chow down on them. I’m not sure they listened.

Oh, endless rain yesterday. It went on and on and on and I didn’t run errands, but regretted it later, because I felt especially stir crazy. More today, tomorrow, and Friday. That’s all I’ll say because I’ve gone on way too much about the rain as it is.

That being said, this is what happens when it rains and the tree is in bloom. Lots of catalpa blossoms on the ground. (There’s even more now.) It’s sort of beautiful. Some of you asked how tall the tree is and I must admit I’m not very good at estimating that. I’m sure it’s at least 50 or 60 feet tall – or more. The catalpa and the maple are both very old – though I think the maple is the older of the two – and very, very tall. You can really see that when you are across the road looking at the property.

Again this morning, we caught a whiff of the intoxicating scent as it traveled on the breeze to our little spot on the porch. Oh. My. Heavens.

We watched 84 Charing Cross Road  last night. I’d been thinking about it recently because I’m not sure I’ve ever read the book though I’d seen the movie long ago. Anyway, I found out that Don had never seen it and I was sure he’d like it. He did. Such a lovely story, beautifully realized as it covered two decades, starting in the late 1940s, in both London and New York City. Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins are simply wonderful. And a great supporting cast, including Judi Dench. Corresponding with a bookshop in another city across the ocean, in search of books that can’t be found locally, establishing a correspondence of twenty years – it’s the perfect dream. I had a tiny taste of it when I corresponded with John Sandoe Books. I can only imagine how satisfying it must have been for Helene Hanff and the staff of the bookshop in London to get to know each other through the letters they sent to each other.

And now I’m wanting to order something through John Sandoe again. What, I don’t know. The Brits write so beautifully and every note – even in our modern email form – is a delight.

Today I’m off to do some shopping, thunderstorms or no!

Happy Wednesday.