Last night was cold, another near-miss frost. In the garden the deer have eaten the lettuce but left the arugula. A patch of infant honey mushrooms has erupted near the woodshed door. I am reading The Leopard and Rilke's elegies and the Orioles-Blue Jays baseball score and worrying about the Caribbean nations.

Our Realty by Kakfa situation has made one good thing clear: Tom and I are not breaking up over house problems. Nonetheless, we are no closer to living together, and I am trying not to imagine a winter up here alone.

Ah, well. At least we have heat and light. Our house has not been smashed in a hurricane. At least we do miss each other. As irritated as I am by those so-called buyers, I know we're happier than they are.