I slept late this morning, and woke to coolness. Now towels are churning in the washer, and I have taken possession of a small cup-and-saucer of black coffee and am resting in the pleasure of a day off. Yesterday's class seemed to end very well, so that feels good, but not working also feels good. These past few work weeks have been long.

My plan today is to sow my fall crops: spinach, lettuce, arugula, radishes. Yesterday morning I made space in the garden boxes--harvesting carrots and greens, transplanting cabbages and chard--and installed the cold frame in its winter home. Today I'll plant in the clean beds, and probably do some weeding as well, maybe turn to housework in the afternoon . . . or instead I might decide to flop in the hammock and read. I'm very open to redirection.

Yesterday, while I was teaching, Tom made the shed windows, a persnickety project, but they look beautiful. Maybe he'll take today away from the job; I don't know what his plan is, but he deserves some time off. Both of us have been so busy.

Last night, before I started dinner, we went for a slow cemetery amble, talking of this and that. He makes me peaceful. I am so fond of him.