Yesterday was a fine day for driving down to the wharf--window open, singing along to Springsteen's Rosalita, paddling my left arm in the breeze. And it was a fine day for finding a parking place, a fine day for bringing home a treat. I spent just over $50 on four meals (three with leftovers) for two people. Whole Atlantic mackerel, as always, is a fabulous deal, and I also bought a pound of chowder mix--bits of cod, sole, flounder, hake. I stowed both in the freezer for later. But for tonight I bought Scottish salmon (not cheap but not ridiculous), and for last night I bought two soft-shell lobsters on sale. So we enjoyed a big Sunday-night feast: boiled lobster, melted butter, freshly baked bread, a green bean and cherry tomato salad, apple cake for dessert.

During the day I spent some time working on an essay for Poetry Lab Notes, the (maybe) name of the future Substack journal I'm designing with Jeannie and Teresa. I picked beans, tomatoes, and cucumbers. I watered the backyard gardens. I kept track of the Bills score. I read Arundel. I baked a couple of loaves of bread. It was a mild puttery day, and I'm sorry it ended so soon.

This week will be busy. I need to buckle down and get myself prepped for next week's high school opener. We've got a load of green firewood arriving, so I'll be back to wood hauling soon. I have to finish reading Brigit Kelly's The Orchard. I should start reading Baron's manuscript. Probably my calendar is scribbled with a passel of other obligations that I'm not instantly remembering.

For me, this is the last week of summer. The rest of the teachers have long been back in school, but I've had this extra month, and it's been sweet. So despite whatever is yammering at me on my calendar, I want to cling to that ease, even if only to stand idly at a window, to walk idly through the woods.