A terrible night's sleep, as the cat decided at 2 a.m. that NOW IS THE TIME TO GET UP, GET UP, DAWN, GET UP NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW, and went on this way until 4, when I finally let him outside. Of course he's currently back in bed and fast asleep, the little thug.

Anyway: good morning!

It's drizzling lightly outside, but the birds are singing loudly and the rain should stop soon. Yesterday I saw our first hummingbird, in my neighbor's quince, and I excitedly texted her the news. We have been on the lookout, with our feeders at the ready. I had so many hummers in Harmony, and have struggled to lure them here. But maybe this will be our lucky spring.

And I've started a new editing project--a much easier-going manuscript: the translation of an Azorean novel about whaling, in which my primary job is to tweak punctuation . . . practically an editing vacation, this one. As a result, yesterday I managed to write my first poem in more than a month, and it's a piece I'm very, very happy with--a draft that moves into surprising places, and is packed with sound, and rolls down the page like a truck. It involves both raucous driveway paving and a fancy rhododendron, so you can see it's got some variety.

Today, more friendly editing, and probably some weeding later in the afternoon, and definitely the vacuuming and floor washing I didn't get to yesterday, and I might work on my poem, and I might take a walk, and I'll cook something or other for dinner--maybe clam chowder, maybe braised chicken--and I might order some nifty retro metal chairs for our almost-pleasant backyard.