Tonight is the sophomore dinner and formal. All of the sophomores are supposed to go and bond. I might not stay for very long at the formal...not to mention that I usually end up leaving from that sort of thing early, I've a good amount of work to finish on Sunday. But supposedly they will feed me salmon at the dinner.
It's starting to look like summer around here. I found a 2009 Williamstown Theatre Festival brochure lying around. I only saw one show last summer: Not Waving, written by Ellen Melaver. The poster is on my wall. Mimi and I kept trying to get to a show, but I was always dirty and tired after the farm and there were lots of other things to do (make food, track down Trevor and Alicia, practice, read). We finally made it over in August during one of the many nights punctuated by 5:00 thunder.
When the thunder came a bit earlier, it would signify the end of our workday at the farm. Probably more than half of the days last summer we would be assaulted by torrential rain for 20 minutes or so, to be immediately followed by beautiful clear skies with some pinkish clouds as the sun settled. When it rained heavily on the farm, a furious flood of water raced across the trenches that surround the field and then into the woods, down the valley.
It's so completely bizarre for me to think that I'll be back on the farm in just a couple of weeks. A year has gone by since my first day last summer and my sophomore year has barrelled through my life as I once knew it. Of late, I have distracted myself from the broad passage of time in so many directions by means which I suspect, to varying degrees, are irreversible.
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