I had such a delightful not-doing-much day yesterday. Paul and I spent a large portion of it watching Hamilton, which we have been longing to see since he was in high school. Then I went outside and tore out bolted lettuce and fading peavines, pruned tomatoes and transplanted okra. Today I'll plant new crops of lettuce and arugula, maybe some more fall staples like kale or collards. Meanwhile, Tom is beginning to cut up Corian for kitchen countertops--a slow but thrilling process. To think: in a few weeks I might be cooking on an easily washable surface. It's an exciting prospect.

In other news: while I was immersed in the conference, the boys were confabulating. And when I emerged, I discovered we had vacation plans. Tom had snagged a campsite at Baxter State Park, home of Mount Katahdin. So in a week we will be heading north into the woods. Even better, my older son will be here to join us. He has been getting regular Covid tests and things look good, so he's planning to drive east this weekend and join our family circle.

The four of us, in the woods. The boys, of course, are dying to climb Katahdin, and I am dying not to climb Katahdin. This creates a perfect scenario. The three of them will spend a day climbing, and I will spend a day reading and writing and playing music by myself in the woods. I cannot wait. No Zoom meetings, no phone messages. A stack of reading: difficult books, comfortable books; poems, prose. My son's mandolin. A notebook and some sharp pencils. Naps and walks. And then, at the end of the day, my beloveds by a campfire. It sounds like heaven.