The sky is cloudless this morning, but a steady small breeze kicks through the trees, and mist feathers the lake. Even in a sweater, I'm a bit shivery out here on the deck.

Yesterday afternoon we had a few off hours. I ate ice cream. I paddled in the lake. I took a nap. Then I celebrated the participants at their poetry reading, danced ridiculously at the afterparty, and slept like a stone. So this morning my body exudes that particular tingly, soft self-satisfaction that only an orgy of lake water, disco, and a bed under an open window can provide.

That's one thing about this job: directing the conference is, without doubt, hard, hard work. But the place insists on itself, and summer by the lake is play.