Another glowering morning in the 40s. For weeks we have been trapped in this chill cloudbank, yet somehow spring continues to unfold. Along the side streets redbuds are bursting into bloom. Much to my surprise, the sweet pea I planted last summer has re-emerged: I had no idea it was a perennial. Columbine rises in a swirl of tender leaves; the hydrangea and lilies are bright with new growth. I planted all of these last fall, so it's sweet to watch them take hold.

I spent a chunk of yesterday afternoon at the archive filling a notebook with diary source material. Here's hoping I have enough to play with for a few days. I'm happy to be writing again, but unsure about what this material will ultimately mean to me. It's like having a cupboard full of ingredients that don't quite add up to a cake.

Anyway, I should stop worrying.

Today: teaching and writing in the morning; a yoga class at noon; errands; an afternoon in the garden; an evening in the kitchen. A life of small things.