Yesterday's convention presentation went well. We had maybe 50 teachers in our session, far more than I expected, and they seemed excited by the dictation/writing prompt/revision prompt strategies that Marita and I were offering. Now we'll see if that leads to any new signups for the Monson conference. I have hopes: some of the participants were pretty excited about what it felt like to play around with revision in this way.

But now it's Saturday, which means I can temporarily stop thinking about such matters. The weather will be cool but clear, and when the air warms up a bit I will get myself outside into the gardens and continue my leaf-removal tasks. I'll transplant spinach, and Tom and I will plan our new garden boxes, and in the kitchen a vat of chicken stock will simmer on the stove, and in the maples the cardinals will whistle and chortle, and I am looking forward to this day.

March has been relatively quiet for me, but April is shaping up to be crazy town. On April 5, I'll be reading at the South Portland Library. Then T and I will steal the following weekend to head to Mount Desert Island for our biannual cottage retreat. On April 19 I'll be teaching a Poetry Kitchen class. On April 25 I'll be going out to dinner with the poet Natalie Diaz (!). On April 26 I'll be taking a workshop with Diaz, listening to her read, and participating in an onstage conversation with Betsy Sholl about our work. And of course I'll be teaching in Monson and working on an editing project and mentoring a student book manuscript in the midst of all this. . . .

So a quiet weekend at home feels especially sweet.