Dorian is roiling up through the Gulf of Maine toward the Atlantic provinces, and here in the seaport it's spitting rain. No wind yet, though a breeze is supposed to kick up later today. Down East counties (Hancock, Washington) are on a tropical storm watch, but our Casco Bay is tucked away from any real weather. So on this dim morning, as I nestle under a couch blanket and think about sweaters and socks, I'm also drinking black coffee and listening to raindrops tick on the vent hood and not worrying about trees falling on the house. What destroyed the Bahamas is nothing more than a passing thought here. The disjuncture is terrible.

I have no particular plans for today, except to run an errand downtown and maybe freeze some chard. Yesterday I got a shingles vaccine, so my left shoulder is as stiff as a signpost, but better that than shingles. I spent some time in the afternoon working on Frost Place stuff, pulling my thoughts together about my upcoming Monson gigs, and forgetting to buy airline tickets to Chicago. So I'd better get that done today too.