Wednesday morning, 60 degrees. The coolness is delicious. All of the house windows are open, and the air is very still; even the birds are quiet. A vague scent of brine floats up from the cove. 

The small editing project seems to be on hold, so I spent yesterday morning at work on a syllabus and then, in the afternoon, switched over to poems. I went for a bike ride and made chocolate pudding. And then, late in the day, I happily watched T build the new back wall of the woodshed. Progress is being made! It is quite thrilling, and I will try to remember to take some photos for you.

Today I may plot out a few Frost Place offerings for 2023. I'll struggle through my exercise session in the morning, and work on some poems, and hang laundry, and water the garden, and run to the grocery store, and call the furnace guy, and maybe the editing project will finally drop into my lap and I'll do that too.

In other words, as you are surmising, things are pretty slow around here. The torpor of summer seems to have overtaken my employment prospects, and I am kicking a can through the hours, muddling with this and that until the desk tray fills up again.