I spent yesterday going nowhere in the car. It was a fine break from the past couple of days. In the morning I shucked, boiled, cut, bagged, and froze a bushel basket of fresh corn; then harvested a dish pan full of various peppers--poblano, sweet Italian, bell, Serrano--and cut, bagged, and froze them. I'll have tomatoes to deal with this afternoon--a small canner load, but I'm short on freezer space here at the Alcott House.

And I'm back to editing today, and I have a poetry manuscript to review, and grocery shopping to fit in somewhere on the schedule . . . but the boy is happily back in his milieu, anxious to get started on his work, and Tom and I enjoyed a pleasant day in which we hardly saw each other because we were too busy humming around our own hives.