The week is dawning like spring . . . bright and cool and with the hope of warmth. Yesterday morning I turned over a new small garden bed, and I may get a chance to start digging up another one this afternoon, after I do my time at the editorial desk. I love these longer days, when the light stretches into the evening and I can linger outside after work instead of hunkering down beside a lamp. We don't yet have a deck or patio or any kind of outdoor living space, only a bare-dirt backyard piled with old siding and tree branches. I don't expect we'll construct much back there this year, but the moss is beginning to return now that the place is dog-free, so that is a sign of recovery. And I've bought some shade-loving wildflower seeds to scatter in the corners.

I've been reading Graham Greene's Travels with My Aunt, still studying the clothing and housework histories, but for some reason not spending much time with poems lately. I will correct that.