I managed to work productively on a couple of poems yesterday, which I did not expect, and which pleased me greatly, particularly because I'd been wrestling with one of them for quite a while without making much useful progress. But suddenly, around noon, I figured a couple of things out, and the poem, though not completely polished, has assumed its final form--always a good feeling when I have been arguing with structure so intensely.

It hasn't yet gotten very hot in the little northern city by the sea. May and thus far June have been delightfully moderate: some rain, some sun, and cool nights for sleeping. But starting today temperatures are supposed to begin creeping upward, and by next week we're forecast to hit 90 degrees. I'd had the fond delusion that we might not need to haul the air conditioner out of the basement this year, but no such luck. I guess that will be a chore for the weekend.

Otherwise, what's new? G and I hammered out our class plans yesterday morning; I mowed grass and harvested escarole; I read and wrote and folded laundry. Tonight I'll likely go out to write. I'm meeting a friend for an afternoon walk. I need to clean the upstairs rooms and answer emails and look at my poem draft again. The days are quiet.