It poured rain all night and is still drizzling now. The garden is beautifully sopped, and I'm so glad I did manage to get those hostas transplanted, and even a few leaves raked, before the storm.

Because I'll be teaching all weekend, today is my holiday. Other than answering a few emails and prepping for tomorrow's class, I am not planning to accomplish anything that isn't my own stuff. I finished both editing jobs this week, my high school plans are done, the Baron essay is done, the vacuuming and bathrooms are done. So I'll go for a walk in the dripping woods, I'll throw a load of sheets into the washing machine, and then I'll settle into whatever I feel like messing around with . . . poems, garden, reading, cooking. I do have a haircut appointment this afternoon, and afterward I'll step over to my neighbor's house to watch the baking show with her, but nobody could label either of those activities work. I am very much looking forward to my day.

I'd like to finish The Waves and "Song of Myself." I'd like to make my way through another chunk of Little Dorrit. I'd like to work on poem drafts and maybe start printing out pieces so that I can begin to imagine a collection. I'd like to pick up Alice Notley's "The Descent of Alette" at the library. I'd like to sit by the fire and do a crossword puzzle. I'd like to rake a few leaves and harvest some kale. I'd like to play mousie with Chuck. I'd like to slowly dice up vegetables for minestrone. I won't do nearly all of this, but any of it would satisfy me.

We'll probably get a few tricker-or-treaters tonight, but we rarely see many. For some reason our little street doesn't draw them. But no matter the number, Chuck will be amazed and excited. Everything thrills that guy. Dry leaves! Dixon Ticonderoga pencils! A bread tie! Dawn's nose!