Eight degrees and windy in the homeland, but the house is cozy. In the night I heard my friends getting up to stoke the stoves, and I felt that sleepy childish delight of being cared for . . .  clank of iron, chunk of wood.

But such moments are brief. Soon I'll get up, get dressed, clump downstairs, become a responsible adult again . . . drink coffee, eat toast, start my car, drive north.

Today the kids and I will work on self-portraits, always an interesting project with teenagers, I think . . . how to see oneself, how to invent oneself. Really, it's an interesting project at any age.