Yesterday morning, after everyone else had left for the ferry, I did manage to get the backyard mess picked up, all storm-trashed twigs and small branches broken up and bagged, though I still have a bit more fat branch to cut into stove-length pieces. I use an arborist's handsaw to slice up these large boughs, and the chore always reminds me of the hours I spent splitting wood in Harmony: the precise physical pleasure of woodwork on a cool fall morning. I don't know if I could still swing an ax, but at least I can run a sharp handsaw through green maple.

So I entered into my zoom afternoon feeling strong and buzzy and accomplished, as wood chores do make a person feel, and then after class I watched the Bills-Chiefs game, which is always a hair-raising matchup, and eventually T's parents came around from their motel and we all walked out to dinner.

This morning the household will slide back into regular life. I'll be editing someone's manuscript, Tom will be renovating someone's kitchen, Ruckus will be mousing among the cracks of the stone wall and snoring in the blue chair. The weather, which was sparkly and warm all weekend, will retreat to fog and cloud and drizzle. I've got a batch of honey mushrooms (harvested from neighborhood backyards) to clean and process for the freezer. And I'd like to work on poems, but we'll see what Time says about that.