My birthday weekend began sweetly yesterday, with little gifts from my parents, and phone calls and texts from beloveds, and then to make everything better Tom came home from work halfway through the morning, all of his assigned tasks done and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. So I slowly made a cake, and listened to some playoff baseball, and watched the latest episode of Bake-Off, and reread Millbank, and later we went for a walk, and later I cooked salmon and potatoes and sliced up tomatoes for a salad, and we had a friendly, slow evening to top off a friendly, slow day.

Today our birthday vacation continues. We'd originally thought Tom would be working all day on Friday, so had made our outing plans for Saturday. As a result, we've ended up with two days to play. This morning we're going to pick up smoked-fish sandwiches at Rose Foods and then drive down to Laudholm Farm, a bird sanctuary in Wells, where we can walk among the saltmarshes and along the beach, eat our sandwiches on a rock, and watch the water and the grasses and the trees and the animals. We'll come home and take naps; we'll light a fire in the fire pit and grill steaks. Two peaceful holidays, and then Sunday I'm back to teaching, Monday I drive north, Tuesday I'm in class with kids all day . . . 

I feel a little bit guilty because I was invited to sign books at the Maine Literary Festival's book fair today, and probably, if I were a good self-promoter, I would have, but in truth I just couldn't bear the thought. I am so tired of working six or seven days a week.

And thus, today, saltwater and sunlight.