Lots of people are still without power today. Schools have stayed closed, traffic lights are dead at major intersections . . . We're so lucky that our own outage was relatively brief, but the ice storm did a number on the city and its surrounds.

Today I'll leave the icy metropolis and head north into snow country. Monson got roughly two feet from the last pair of blizzards, a classic turn of events in a central Maine spring. But the temperatures will warm quickly and the melt will commence. Already, my doughty tulips are peeking out from under the ice crust. They will not be quenched.

This week I'll be on the road for only one night; and only teaching my usual kids, not making any school visits--a much easier schedule than my last trip up north. My school-year travels are winding down: just a couple of classes left in April, then the kids' gallery opening, and I am done for the season. I do have a busy spring and summer ahead--a trip to the cottage on Mount Desert Island, weekend Zoom classes, a trip to Chicago, a trip to Vermont, co-teaching some teacher-training sessions, and then directing the big teaching conference in July--but my bi-weekly treks will be over until September.

Sometimes it amazes me, how much time I spend on the road these days. I am not the traveling sort; I struggle with transitions; I cling to habits. And yet here I am, heading toward the horizon once again.