I got home yesterday before 9 a.m. so was able to hustle out to my digging project before the rains came in. And success!--I finished turning over the entire sidewalk strip; thinned out lilies, spurge, and candytuft from other beds; planted the thinnings in the strip; and, between each set of new plants dug in the dahlia tubers that have descended from the ones that Baron and Janet gave me so many years ago. So even though the new lilies et al. will be babyish this year, the dahlias will fill in the empty spaces with a riot of dark leaves and late-season blossoms.

The project was extremely satisfying: it cost zero dollars, it will be a 100 percent improvement over crabgrass and tedious weedwhacking, and it was excellent exercise. As I've said before, I'm no athlete, but I am a mule, and my body still loves this kind of challenge.

And then the rains arrived and I spent the afternoon by the fire reading Jhumpa Lahiri's stories. Now and again I got up to gaze out through various windows at my delighted gardens. I scribbled notes to myself about my new poetry manuscript. I hugged happy Chuck whenever he suggested I should. Upstairs T was working on his photo projects, and now and again one of us went looking for the other, for a quick word or a question or just to brush a kiss on the back of a neck.

Briefest of Edens. Rent-a-utopia. Pocket paradise. Carpe diem.