It was a good weekend--quiet yet social, busy yet restful. It was a pleasure to be together after two weeks apart. Tom painted trim; I mowed grass and worked in the garden. We spent time with two sets of friends at two separate dinners, but there was no entertainment fuss.

And now we're apart again, and now I am returning to my old lonely editing life. At least I have two poem drafts for company, and two rows of peavines loaded with peas, and two companionable animals, and two feet, and two hands.

The washing machine is churning towels, and soon I will carry them out to the line and pin them up. For now the air is cool, but the sun will break through the grey, and the temperature will rise, and the day will be July in the northcountry: an inland sea of green and gold, pink and yellow, white and pale blue; a sky of birds and insects and pollen; heat with a recollection of cold.