Yesterday's snow is shoveled, and now it's snowing again. And it's cold . . . a good day for noodles and broth, which is convenient because I made French boiled beef for last night's dinner and have a beautiful pot of beef broth at my disposal.
This afternoon the stove guy is coming to install the oven part! Just think: after an ovenless month I might be baking again. I can hardly believe the luxury.
In other thrilling news, I think my seed order is on the way. Apparently, thanks to the pandemic, the seed companies have been swamped with orders--so much so that Johnny's, my favorite, has temporarily stopped accepting orders from home gardeners. I was worried that I might not get any seeds this year, and I'm still sure that much of what I wanted will be out of stock. But something is better than nothing.
So today I'll finish up my current editing project, and talk to an author about an upcoming project, and wash sheets, and fiddle with my Accident Sonnets, and host the stove guy. I might practice some Bach on the violin. I might do some research on cold frames so that I can tell Tom exactly what I'd like before he builds me a new one.
I've got a new poem out in Salamander: "Milk Gap," which is a piece I'm particularly proud of . . . one that went places I didn't expect to go in ways that felt new and interesting. Salamander is a print-only journal, but you might be able to find a library copy, if you're interested. I do have an extra copy myself, but mailing things is not that reliable these days. If you're local, I could leave it on the stoop for you to pick up. Just let me know.
I've got a bunch of other poems I could submit, but I haven't gotten around to it. Submitting is dull and mostly unsatisfactory, and I am always procrastinating about it. I think some people feel better after they send out poems, but I'd way rather write poems than send them out. However, it's part of the job, I guess.