The Mountains Called, and New Yorkers Answered
It doesn’t take much to get the circle up and running. Every morning, shortly after the children have been mercifully spirited away to day camp, Deborah Goldman or Bonnie Keller or perhaps Agi Gruenbaum will drag a rickety folding chair to the shade of the giant white pine, pull out her latest embroidery project and before long, the circle – a jagged amoeba is more like it – will come to life with a dozen or more women who make Ganz Bungalows their summer home.
To the accompaniment of buzzing cicadas, they vigorously hash over the latest news from Israel, discuss upcoming weddings and embellish details from the previous evening’s skunk sighting. When the skies deliver rain, they shift closer to the sheltering boughs of that great pine and hope for the best.
