Well, I'm heading north this afternoon, so naturally that means the weather god has decided to throw a little sleet and freezing rain into tomorrow's forecast. Blah. Winter cannot be pried away from this state. Meanwhile, it's also mud season up there, so my car may or may not get stuck in my friend's gravel road. Central Maine is a thrilling mess in April.

Here in Portland it's been cold and windy. I spent a bit of time outside yesterday, spreading fresh soil in garden beds and filling low spots in our gravel lane, and the breeze was whipping the laundry into knots.  

With my workload lightening slightly, I've been making progress on an essay draft, but at a crawl. I'm not sure why the pace is so excruciating, but there's not much I can do other than keep showing up to tap out the next few words as they come. It's a good thing I don't have a deadline because I'd never make it. Otherwise, I'm editing and working on teaching stuff--the usual--but at a more sustainable clip. I took an hour to read Donne poems and write up notes on what I was seeing. I fidgeted with poem drafts. I suppose this is an odd and scrappy life, but it's hard to see how I could have managed any other kind.