I heard from all three of my boys yesterday, so that is a good thing. My house is extremely clean now, which I guess is also good. I fill empty time with reading; okay, that is certainly good. I am sleeping well, I am learning to cook for one, I try hard not to start dinner too early. Thank goodness for the affection of housepets. I am working on Frost Place stuff and I am editing. I am thinking about manuscript submissions. I have electricity, and the lawnmower still works. I have filled the house with vases of peonies and roses. I will cut some herbs today for drying. The sun is shining and people keep mailing me books and you are my friend.

from Maud  

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 

I have led her home, my love, my only friend,
There is none like her, none.
And never yet so warmly ran my blood
And sweetly, on and on
Calming itself to the long-wished-for end,
Full to the banks, close on the promised good.

None like her, none.
Just now the dry-tongued laurels’ pattering talk
Seem’d her light foot along the garden walk,
And shook my heart to think she comes once more;
But even then I heard her close the door,
The gates of Heaven are closed, and she is gone.