The boy has been a hurricane in the kitchen.  On Friday he made a chicken and mushroom pie. Last night he used the leftover pastry to make us crabmeat tarts. Today, he says, he's crossing to the sweet side to tackle creme patissiere. In the meantime, I spent my entire Alcott House anniversary day cleaning, and am feeling much better about things now. I do hate a grubby nest.

Today will be sunny and slightly cool, and I plan to work outside in the garden. I've got chard and beans to freeze, cucumbers to pickle, grass to mow, weeds to eliminate, and a fading sunflower patch to coax into blooming for another week or two. Also, I need to stand on the sidewalk and stare lovingly at the changes I've instigated on this little piece of land. There's much, much, much more to do; but when I remember the nothingness we bought last year--parched, weed-ridden, unnoticed--I feel so happy about how much life and beauty this postage-stamp garden exudes now.