Well, I was a baby and begged off band practice last night. This morning I feel less cowardly, given the thickness of the flakes and the travel warnings on the turnpike. I'm sure all of the guys in my band would have barreled on through, but I can get so anxious when driving, even in beautiful weather. If necessary, I can persevere, but I do feel a whole lot happier when I'm not on an interstate in snow.

As a result, here I remain in Portland, non-anxiously watching the fat flakes drift and swirl in the stiff breeze. Yesterday, during an activity with my high school class, I was so happy to suddenly receive a tiny, bare-bones poem trigger for myself. I've occasionally received those triggers while teaching in other situations, yet I'm always surprised. After so many years of being a solitary writer, it feels strange to experience that surge in a busy public setting. But in this era of drought I snatch at whatever I can get.