Yesterday was our one sunny day--rain before, rain afterward--so I spent the morning weeding and planting in the vegetable garden. Then Frost Place stuff: three phone meetings in the afternoon, plus a flurry of back-and-forth texts . . . but programming is getting finalized, meals are getting arranged, metaphorical rocks are getting shoved into new corners. I'm feeling optimistic.

I think today will be mostly rain. I'd had hopes of weeding and mulching the back gardens, but maybe that will get done tomorrow. Instead, I've got chicken stock to make, and plenty of spring-cleaning tasks in the house, plus poem drafts to work on and maybe the new collection to send out. I will stay busy, no doubt.

With all of this rain, the peas and potatoes are in glorious shape. Chard and bok choi are eager, lettuce is thick, and the young shrubs are filled with delight. Onions and garlic are tall and strong; everywhere is green and green and green. (Of course the battered peonies are less pleased, but one can't have everything.)

Meanwhile, I am reading Anna Karenina, which is so full of sadness and wrong decisions.