Portland is now officially under a tropical storm warning, which means I really do need to start stowing away yard furniture, the cold frame, various trellises, etc. Today and tomorrow may be the last hurrah of my sunflowers and zinnias; they're already getting autumn-brittle, and I don't think they'll stand up to a hurricane. So I should cut some big bouquets for the house.

This afternoon I have a dentist appointment, and I'll go out to write in the evening. Otherwise, I'm still working away on my own projects. I read the recent James Wood article on George Eliot (in the New Yorker) and scribbled disagreements in my notebook. I read Said on Lampedusa's The Leopard and Visconti's film of The Leopard and was reminded, once again, about why I despise movies based on my favorite books. I read about Dante's tenth circle of hell, where venal popes are stuffed upside down into holes with their feet on fire. I read Middlemarch--about Lydgate and Rosamond's deluded courtship: two people destined to be totally miserable together, without any idea that this is the case. I started imagining a series of writing prompts based on Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" or Emily Post's Etiquette.

As you can see, I got nothing useful done, but I got a lot done.