Last night, as I was texting with various of my young people, I was thinking, What larks!--a catchphrase from Dickens's Great Expectations--what sweet Joe says to his wife's young brother, Pip, whenever they find a bit of happiness together. One of my young people was in Niagara to see the falls and marvel in the kitsch; another was beaming in a wedding gown. Both were excited, and I felt so lucky to be chattering away with them and enjoying their glee. Thank goodness for these sweethearts in my life.

And now it is morning. The summer air is as thick and warm as ever, yet it's freighted with darkness, that inexorable reminder of winter. I need to think about moving firewood into the basement. I need to think about dry-cleaning winter coats. But then the sun opens its eyes and the heat starts to build and I forget about autumn for another day.

With the big editing project off my desk, I'm turning my attention to other tasks this week. I've got two poetry manuscripts to study and comment on; I need to prep for next weekend's class; I have to attend various meetings; Little Chuck goes to the vet. Undoubtedly my calendar is scrawled with a host of other reminders too. But in and among these chores I should find a bit of space to myself: to linger idly at the windows, to hum and putter; to write and read, to dream.