Heavy warm rain last night, then a rich lamplit fog, and now the sky lifting its blanket before my eyes . . .

Today I will work on Frost Place stuff--mostly writing introductions for readers, which means constructing my version of the sweetest review the poet has ever received. We don't have a great deal of honorarium money at the Frost Place, so I do what I can to make my visiting faculty feel like honored guests. And for a writer, not much feels better than knowing you've had a careful and sympathetic reader who wants to tell the world about your art.

But writing reviews takes time, and in such situations I am the opposite of a procrastinator. I'm always afraid I'm not going to give myself enough of a chance to do the best job possible. That accounts for why I'm prepping for a program that's still a month away.

The conference is, at this point, in a really good place. We are full-up with applicants, which is a great boon for our fragile budget. Of course, there's always the chance that someone will have to drop out, but we even have some wiggle room to weather that eventuality.

So, Frost Place stuff today, and a long walk, and lilacs in bloom, and a yoga class, and then homemade falafel for dinner. Maybe I should concentrate on the picaresque as a life goal.