Another cool morning in the 40s . . . Perhaps installing A/C in the house was a complete waste of time. For here I am, in late June, still wrapped in my fuzzy bathrobe, very happy to drink hot coffee and own a wood stove.

Outside, the roses are blooming. Golden lilies nod along the sidewalk. Peavines groan under the weight of the pods. The groundhog has trashed my lettuce. The scene looks like summer, despite the chill air.

I think I'll go for a bike ride this morning, before I climb back into my desk hole. I think I'll eat fresh strawberries for breakfast. I'll read a novel about Ireland and I'll read a poem about Eden and I'll check the baseball scores . . . and, yes, the scene feels like summer, despite the chill air.

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FYI, I've long been scheduled to teach a two-session, in-person generative poetry class for the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance, August 6 and 13, but the organization has decided to revert to Zoom . . . so if you're far-flung and interested, well, now you can join me. The theme is "Sheltering in Place: Writing from Where You Are," and the cost is $60 (maybe slightly more if you're not a member; I'm not sure how that's working) . . . in any case: it's cheap, as these things go, and you are welcome to join us no matter your experience level.