Yesterday was a whirlwind, but the chores all got done . . . first, a long walk, then floors and bathrooms cleaned, sheets and towels washed, groceries dealt with, appointments made. In the midst was a long midday phone meeting with Teresa about plans for next year's conference. We've got ideas for a few structural adjustments, but we also spent a good deal of time talking about how best to maintain the atmosphere of giddy, engaged, close-knit learning that was so clearly evident this past July. Our minds are running down strange and intriguing paths. We're feeling so much freedom and possibility; and given that we both love experiment, this sense of openness is very exciting. As a participant pointed out, even the shift in the conference name--from the Conference on Poetry and Teaching to the Conference on Poetry and Learning--hints at a change in perspective. Learning is not about purveying information. Learning is about discovery. How can poetry be a window into, say, a deep, productive engagement with other art forms? With science? With the natural world? How could this conference promote such engagements?

You see that my thoughts are spinning. I'm certainly not articulate yet, but I'm beginning to have some ideas. . . .

This morning, another meeting--this one about a September team-teaching workshop with my friend Gretchen. And then back to my desk to work up a draft conference schedule for Teresa and deal with various other this-and-thats. Maybe eventually I'll get outside and haul a few more loads of leaf compost, if we don't have another weird un-forecasted drizzle day like we did yesterday.

In the meantime, I've started rereading Dickens's Our Mutual Friend. It's such a delight.