Good morning from damp and windy Portland, where we are feeling the innocuous effects of Jose, spinning torpidly off to our southeast. The air is mild and thick with humidity, the breeze is steady, and the open-ocean waves are high. For us, this is sweet seaside weather . . . a terrible contrast with what the Caribbean is facing yet again. It is hard to allow myself to take pleasure in it.

Today I will start a couple of new editing projects, and then I'll be off to the new house to paint ceilings, greet the furnace guy, and pick my first crop of arugula, which apparently loves this weather. My friend David sent me a photograph from his hometown in western Canada, where it is snowing. In the meantime, here in sort-of-temperate Portland, all of the gardeners have too many tomatoes, the grapevines are loaded, and the heavy-headed basil is toppling. Next year maybe I will be the one trying to give it all away. For the moment, however, I am taking all of the free tomatoes I can get.

But I am still stuck reading magazines. Blah. Hurry up and get here, fat book.