Another day of pouring rain, but it's warmer, at least; and anyway I like the sound of rain and wind and screeching pileated woodpeckers. Perhaps the woodpeckers are mating: all I know is that this time of year they scream and shout, and occasionally shoulder their way through the wet air, flying from dead tree to dead tree across the clearing of our yard. Pileated woodpeckers are very odd birds; they both look and sound like semi-civilized pterodactyls.

In other bird news: the goldfinches are beginning to lose their winter drab and turn yellow again, so they appear at the feeder looking quite disreputable, with their ratty jackets and bandit masks. Juncos, of course, are always well groomed, but the robins have beer guts and the chickens are muddy up to their eyes.

Meanwhile, I am reading Trollope and Raymond Carver, still editing the art book, still fighting an ant invasion, and now beginning to think about all the things I have to do in April . . . beginning with this reading in Orono on Thursday afternoon. Don't ask me why it's not listed on the English department's schedule of events, but it is indeed happening. Maybe you can come.

By the way, Tom's in a photo show that opens in Falmouth, Maine, on Friday.