Monday morning and a driveway full of snow. T and I did shovel yesterday afternoon, though the snow kept coming down and we've got more to do this morning. But let's hear it for the neighbors on this block: early in the morning, Andrew did a first-pass snow-blow of everyone's sidewalks; and last night, after the snow had ended, Jon snow-blowed our sidewalk and our driveway cut. People are so nice around here.

The snowfall was significant--we definitely got more than a foot--and it was beautiful coming down, if blustery and sharp to the face. It wasn't a good day to be wearing glasses.

I don't have to hit the road home till afternoon. I think the north got much less snow than Portland did, so the drive to Wellington should be okay. My big poem is more or less finished . . . a bit of fiddling but not much more. Betsy, who read it yesterday, was encouraging, so that settled my nerves a bit. The Bills managed to beat the Dolphins while I was sleeping--a surprise, as they were losing at halftime. Various small jangly annoying daily-life things have ironed themselves out, at least temporarily. I guess I'm ready to go back to work.