Yesterday's snowstorm devolved into a rainstorm and then froze, so things are looking pretty ugly out there. A few minutes ago I opened the back door to put out the reluctant cat, and it's a good thing he was reluctant because crunch crunch crunch around the edge of the shed strode a stocky black and white animal . . . surely Ruckus's friend Jack from across the street . . . but, wait a sec, no, cat, get back into the house immediately.

Public service announcement: Skunks in southern Maine are not hibernating.

My sister and nephew will head back to Vermont later today, and I'll wash a bunch of sheets and towels and reclaim my study. Still, amid visitor uproar, I did manage to finish that editing project and even to spend some time with my friend's poetry manuscript. And thanks to my son I've got a kernel of an idea for a new poem. Possibly I'll find a moment to experiment later this week.

I do feel less downhearted than I did yesterday morning. Life always looks much rosier after a close skunk call.