I slept until 6:45 this morning--shockingly late for me--then woke up confused, thinking that Tom hadn't set his alarm for work, that we were terribly late, etc., etc. What a relief to discover that it was Sunday, the perfect day for oversleeping . . . but of course by that time I was wide awake and ready to get up.

Still, it's fun to celebrate the weekend by sleeping in. It's such a rare occurrence in my life. Who knows when it will happen again?

Yesterday was a productive and enjoyable day. I emptied and rolled up the hoses for storage, did a bunch of autumn pruning, and mowed grass for the last time of the season. Tom put away the yard furniture and the air conditioner and restocked the shed with snow equipment. My next few weekends are packed with activity, and I'm relieved that winter won't sneak up on us while I'm otherwise engaged.

Then we went for a brisk walk and, in the evening, we dressed up nice and went out for my delayed birthday dinner--to Miyake, one of our very favorite restaurants in Portland, which has an incredible Japanese menu and is not all that easy to get into. It was a treat to sit side by side sharing mysteriously wonderful plates that we could never replicate at home. 

Afterward, we walked arm in arm through the busy Old Port, back to our car, and then we wove our way home, a ten-minute journey: up the hill to busy Congress Street and down the other side, past the big hotel, through the shadow dance of Bayside and the big oak-cradled park, curving into Deering (once its own town) and the traffic-light wilderness of Forest Avenue, around crazy Woodfords Corner, over the railroad track, and then a quick left turn from the blare into our dark and quiet hamlet.

How strange, how strange to live in the midst.

Tomorrow I'll hit the road, heading north; home on Tuesday evening, a couple of catchup days, and on Friday the bus south to the big city. So today I've got errands to run: groceries, and also birthday shopping for my New York City sweethearts. But I think I'll find time to finally work on that sonnet-blurt and possibly even start sketching out the new essay idea that's been percolating in my mind. The weather will be cool and sunny. The housework is under control. Dinner can be simple--maybe bucatini with leftover chicken and mushrooms; maybe a ginger-apple pie. Oh, October, you are dear to me.