It's been raining lightly all night, and is forecast to keep this up for the next several days. Though I got most of my bulbs planted yesterday before work, I've still got a big batch of anemone corms to dig in, so I expect I'll be out in the wet today, getting that done.

Tomorrow I'll head north for class on Wednesday, and I'd like to cross planting off my list before I leave, along with various other this-n-thats. Yesterday was the final session in the chapbook seminar, but next Saturday I'll be leading a revision workshop, meaning that my off-days, such as they are, continue to be sprinkled oddly around the edges. This week's so-called off-days will likely involve editing and Frost Place stuff, but also housework and groceries, none of which is exactly off. As always, the line between work and not-work is blurry at best.

But the Phillies are going to the World Series, which pleases me, and rain is falling kindly (for a change), which also pleases me. The house is snug, and I slept well, and I'm planning to make split-pea soup for dinner. If I can find the space, I'll work on poem revisions. Monday morning, darkness and rain; lamplight, the scent of toast, the tick of a clock; books and flowers and an empty cup. Two long-acquainted people not speaking but atmospherically friendly, like fat clouds bumping up against each other in a blue sky-room.