Wednesday, August 26, 2020

The heat broke after last night's thunderstorms: this morning there's a crisp breeze rippling among the maples, and the air smells of wet tea leaves. 

I think my day will be less harried than yesterday was, when I was bouncing from one obligation to the next. Editing is still on hold, so before the boy gets out of bed I'm hoping to copy out some Blake, go for an idle bike ride, do a little of my own writing, create the small pretense that I have a room of my own.

Still, yesterday's harriedness had many bright spots. I cooked the season's first batch of tomato sauce, baked bread, and made honey ice cream. The furnace guy said the furnace is in good shape. My Frost Place meeting was brief but exciting, as we are floating plans for expanding our offerings.

But I wish there was some way to shift the dread that crouches among the small joys.

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