Well, I'm back in Portland for a few days . . . until Friday, when I fly to Chicago for a holiday with Number One Son. I'm hoping that trip won't be quite as wet as this past weekend's was. Moving Number Two Son into his dorm room was a soggy adventure.

I checked in on my new transplants yesterday and they were flat, thanks to the weekend downpour, but I think they will rally. Of course I forgot to take photos for you. Perhaps I'll remember to do that today.

Today there's no rain, not yet anyway, but the breeze is brisk and the humidity is high. I have a long list of itchy this-and-that things to do: edit a gnarled manuscript, design a syllabus, research oil-delivery companies, remember to buy my sister a birthday present, and so on and so on.

This is the month that I will learn I did not win the Autumn House Prize for Poetry. I cannot imagine it will go any other way. Still, I am waiting to hear.