Of course I have been charmed by the young people. The little house is littered with giggling and enthusiastic food enjoyment and cat coaxing and cheerful friendly chatter. Last night we had a central Maine diaspora dinner, with my dear Lucy here as well, and a feast of garlicky meatballs (from the lamb raised by Lucy's sister) plus baked feta and roasted vegetables and chocolate cake, and the young people spontaneously did the dishes and then flopped around the living room faux-seriously planning TikTok videos, and the ghosts of past and present smiled on us.

Today they'll be asleep for hours and then awake and away and then back and awake and then napping and eating, but I have no idea in what order or duration any of this will happen. I've got some desk things to sort through, and I want to go for a walk, but mostly I'll float amid whatever happens to be going on. I'm slowly beginning to work my way into the Aeneid, and as always I've got class prep waiting for me, but none of this is urgent. It's okay for me to float.

The little house is happy to be holding up so well: a kitchen crowded with cooks and conversers, a dining-room crammed with table legs, a living room without quite enough chairs (and one is criminally hogged by the cat) but with tulips and a warm fire and ska and plates of cake.