I remember senseless arguments with an old boyfriend (let's call him R) about what part of summer was the zero summer in T.S. Eliot's Little Gidding, the final poem of his Quartets. R was of the mindset that it was when the mountain nights started to chill. I was completely committed to it being early on, around the Solstice. For me, it is Delaware coun…
© 2024 Alice Feiring
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