Rain and cloud today, and the air is much cooler than it's been for weeks. Yesterday I tore out peavines and planted fall crops: spinach, arugula, chard. Later this week I'll put in kale. For some reason I've been thinking of Bach's solo violin sonatas--not humming or fingering, just thinking. I wonder if that's linked to all the Donne I've been reading. Writing this book, I've found myself distracted by sound, sound, sound. "Busie old foole, unruly Sunne." The cadence of that line is so odd. Do I pronounce the stresses UN-RU-ly or un-RU-ly? Poets bewilder me.