A good writing and talking session last night, and this morning my notebook is thick with new blurts. Now, outside, rain is spitting, and a small wind twists and swirls in the maples. Inside, I am fighting a weather headache with coffee and Advil. A storm is coming in, and my head knows it.

Friday again. Trash day, exercise day, laundry day, editing day, housework day. But mid-morning I'll take a break and sit in on my friend Maudelle's sonnet presentation for the Frost Place Poetry Seminar. She's so smart about sonnets and I'm looking forward to learning. Last year I was the one zoom-teaching the Friday session at the seminar. It is restful to be the audience this year.

The wind still twists and swirls. My headache seems a little better, though. Tonight, for dinner, Portuguese kale soup, cucumber and green bean salad, blueberry pie . . . a garden meal.

Summer is elegy, even in its glory.