I think last night's reading went okay. There were about 30 people in attendance, which seems impressive, really, given the complications of Zoom. It's never easy to feel cozy on that platform, but I guess we're all making the best of it. And it was sweet to see some friends in the audience.

Today: back to editing; maybe a yoga class, if I can argue myself into budgeting the time for it; and then a trip to the DMV so Paul can take his permit test. Yes, at the age of almost-23 he still doesn't have his driver's license, but he's finally committed himself to getting it done. So I will be ambling around the DMV neighborhood, or panting in a hot car, or something, while he fills in the little circles and boxes. 

We got some rain last night--not much, but welcome. So the air is sticky this morning; shadowy, like an autumn dawn should be, and swollen with summer humidity. The sort of day a farmwife's thoughts turn to canning tomatoes. I don't have enough to can, sadly, but I do have enough for sauce, and that will have to suffice.

By the way: the second session of my two-day writing retreat, "New England Bards: Discovering Voice, Discovering Place" (Nov. 14-15), is already half full. If you're thinking about joining us, I suggest you decide quickly as I know the organizer is getting ready to advertise it more broadly. Do be in touch if you have any questions about how the weekend will work.