Denoument

I hate to complain, but this summer has been nothing short of dreadful. It rained the entire month of June. July was hit and miss, but on the average, fairly sucky. August has been comparable. We decided to go away for a long weekend to grasp the waning strains of Summer this past Friday. We headed to Aunt Bert's cottage on Long Island for a last hurrah..just in time for the arrival of Hurricane/Tropical Storm Danny. Really, we can't win.

We arrived in the afternoon on Friday. It poured with rain, but at least they had wireless Internet service. I worked till 4 pm. The evening was spent with a coterie of 80 something women who reminisced about much worse storms. The hurricane of 1938, to be exact. It was a long night. I awoke on Saturday with the sound of pelting rain peppering the windows. It only got worse. As the tropical storm bore in, generous pools of gathering water collected along the road. The streets were silent. Trees wavered precariously. I must confess, I was miserable and beyond restless.

I corralled a group of cottage inhabitants for a ride out to the outlets in Riverhead. I found a new purse, a dazzling vanilla handbag from the Michael Kors outlet. We bought a martini shaker and glasses. Fang shopped for underwear. David sequestered himself in Brooks Brothers and bought an Etonian inspired blazer. Basia window shopped. The rain droned down with a vengeance and created lake-like ponds in the parking lot.

Once back at the cottage, we gathered and watched Edward Kennedy's never ending funeral mass/homage in DC/burial on TV. All I could think about was if the widow was wearing comfortable shoes because, Lord knows, the poor woman was on her feet all day.

I was annoyed..and restless. I had planned to spend this last summer weekend laying all day at the beach reading a new biography about Alice Roosevelt. To be sandwiched on a small love seat watching CNN coverage of a funeral while a storm swirled outside about made me damn near crazy.

Basia finally broke the ice. She suggested we visit one of the North Fork wineries noted for their interpretation of French rose wine. I was on my feet in seconds. "Let's go!" I said, perhaps a little too loudly.

The rain ceased and there under a wooded canopy, we tasted diluted merlots in various forms--as a champagne, wood barrel cured, etc. It was a sublime moment in a sublime setting so I documented it
We woke on Sunday morning and saw another dreary day. It was time to go home.

We'll hope for better days next summer.