Lake Hebron this morning--water and sky inseparable under deep fog. We arrived yesterday in a downpour, and the downpours continued off and on all night, so grass and trees and Adirondack chairs are drenched in wet. But now there is no rain and no wind, and bullfrogs and red-winged blackbirds pepper the fog with sound.

I didn't sleep magnificently last night, but eventually I did drop off, which is about as much sleep as I usually hope for on a conference night. Everyone seems really, really happy to be here--delighted with the comforts of their digs, pleased by the lake and the walkable town and the good cheer of the staff, and for me this is a massive relief.

I am sitting here, freshly showered, in a clean summer dress, at the cabin's big sliding door. I am sitting here with my cup of hot black coffee, and I am slowly coming to grips with being awake. I need to pull out my papers and start looking at plans: this is a big teaching day for me. But the fog and the bullfrogs and my half-sleep are keeping me slow. It's very quiet down here. Usually I room up by the main road, where the log trucks starting running before dawn. But the lakefront is a different world.

Well, wish me luck. It's a new venture, it's a familiar venture, and who knows what will happen next.