I just learned that my poem "In Praise of Boring Sex" is out in the new issue of The Maine Review. So that's a cheerful start to my weekend.

Last night we had thunderstorms and island fog. This morning the garden is wet and bright and vigorous; the sun is shining; the forecast promises temperatures in the 60s. My seedlings arrived, and now they are tucked safely into their cold frame. Maybe, by next weekend, I'll feel safe about planting them.

Today I'll plant cucumber seeds and marigolds, do some weeding, move a small blueberry bush. Speaking of blueberries: one of the bushes that Tom and I put in last spring is loaded with buds. I had better start thinking about bird netting, or we won't get a single berry.

And in entertainment news: (1) The local drive-in theater is showing The Wizard of Oz this weekend, a film I have seen at least 100 times. We're looking forward to making it 101 times. A drive-in movie seems about perfect right now. (2) We watched the premier of the screenplay in which my son appears, and were so impressed with how well the playwright, director, and performers managed to construct such a fluent, complex family drama amid the constraints of quarantine. These kids are our artistic future. And they are not giving up.

P.S. About that poem, "In Praise of Boring Sex": I submitted this piece repeatedly for at least two years, and it was rejected over and over again. So I was delighted when TMR finally took it. I did wonder, over the course of those rejections, if the submission readers were too young to believe that it was a love poem.