Snow all night, and still snowing this morning. Maybe five inches, maybe four?--it's hard to tell through the window. What I know is that I have to dig out and drive in it this morning, all for the joy of a mammogram at the hospital across town. Blah.

Well, you've got expect such things from Mondays. They do like to cling to their spoiler role. And I had a restful Sunday, though every team I rooted for lost. I spent much of the day in the kitchen, making fish chowder, Yorkshire pudding, a baked Greek salad, raspberry sorbet. I read The Aunt's Story and worked on some poem drafts and went for a walk with Tom. So I guess I can cope with this stupid Monday.

This will be a busy week--appointments, editing, class prep--though at least I won't be on the road. I'll have to force myself out of dreaminess. I'll have to be useful.

But the snow is lovely--a fragile puff of cold, billowing like cream.