Tu Fu poetry-club readers: Don't forget to let me know when your Rexroth books arrive. I have heard from a couple of people, but not from everyone who expressed interest. Once I know you have them in hand, I'll set a reading assignment.
It was 45 degrees here this morning. Ruckus's ears were so cold in the breeze from the window that he had to spend half an hour buried under the comforter before he could recover his self-satisfaction.
My band Doughty Hill is performing tonight, 6-9 p.m., at Stutzmans' Cafe and Farmstand in Sangerville. It's a benefit for the FarmShare program, which provides free seasonal produce to elderly and disabled Mainers. The cost is $15 for dinner and the show, and I promise that I will finish memorizing all the lyrics to "The City of New Orleans" before I try to sing it again.
Reasons to attend: Last night, during dress rehearsal, the giant mosquitoes didn't show up until the end of the show, so you should be safe. Also there will be strawberry shortcake.
I am still reading the John Fowles novel, still slowly copying out Beowulf, still dipping into Langston Hughes's African Treasury, now also reading Jane Kenyon's Selected Poems. I have four editing projects clamoring for attention, and a crossword puzzle to finish, and grass to mow, and dead wood to prune out of various shrubs, and weeds to pull in my gardens, and a few last strawberries to pick. I have to feed the birds, and comfort my sons during telephone calls, and figure out how to disguise holes in the living-room couch. I have to wait for rejection letters, and send a photo of the cat to my mother. I have to let the dog in and let the dog out and let the dog in, and wash my husband's work pants and hang them on the line and take them down and fold them and put them into the drawers. I have to worry about the news, and cry about more people who are dead for no reason, and miss my friends, and hold a cup of hot tea, and stare up into the blue and cloudless sky, and wonder how I ought to be living my life. Because all of this seems so minor and yet so necessary and yet so minor.