Saturday, April 17, 2021

Thanks to the magnanimous cat, I had the rare fun of getting to sleep in on a Saturday morning. Cold wet daybreak is an excellent time to stay under the blankets, especially when clean sheets are scented with last week's breeze and sunshine.

But now I'm up, listening to the rain drip and the furnace groan, drinking hot coffee and gazing out the window at the emerald patch of grass we call Concord Plain. The rain may be cold, but it has greened up everything, and the plants are delighted. Out back, my little rhododendrons are stretching their arms like dancers. The rose-of-sharon has transformed from a bundle of gray twigs to a brown-green shrub pulsing with sap. The tulip buds are blushing into color.

It's so hard to resist the sight of growing; in a few minutes I'll put on shoes and a coat and wander outside to admire, but for the moment I'm still enmeshed in the luxuries of bathrobe and coffee cup. And speaking of luxuries: electricity! Not one single problem with bad street connections or leaks into the breaker box! We are living the high life.

I don't have too many plans for the day. Tom's going to the fish market first thing this morning to see if he can score us some soft-shell crabs. Paul will be working his final weekend shift. I might get out the sewing machine, or I might try to do some writing. When the rain stops, I will certainly be taking a long neighborhood walk to see how the gardens and flowering trees are coming along.

I should also submit some poems, though I've been procrastinating on that front. I do have a few things worth sharing, but I haven't been in the mood to go through the motions. And I suppose I should gird myself to start sending out my diary manuscript again. Blah. 

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