The Alcott House is stuffed to the gills, and everyone but Mr. Ruckus and me is still in bed. When I opened the door to let him outside, I stepped into blanket of wet warm air. Spring today, snowstorm on Friday. That is the tale of February in the little northern city by the sea.

My sister's family arrived mid-afternoon, and since then I've been cooking and hostessing and playing cards and chattering, then finally climbing into the new bed and falling asleep with Tom to an episode of Peter Gunn. 

But when I woke up this morning I remembered that I have news for you: Tom has been awarded a residency at Monson Arts, meaning that he can return to the homeland for two weeks and finish a photo project begun when we were still living in Harmony: documenting mud season in Central Maine. This is huge news, as these residencies are nationally competitive. And now that he has a job with actual vacation time, he can afford to apply for such a thing . . . and win! So at the end of March, I will be a bachelorette for two weeks, and Tom will be up north with his camera, and I am so, so happy for him.

If it weren't for Ukraine, we'd be pretty cheerful around here.