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2019-04-03 - 12:55 p.m.

a world that moves on.

some time ago, it was unseasonably warm, and there were thunderstorms at midnight. then the cold rolled down to the coast and the shakespeare theatre burned to the ground. i suppose it will be the fault of children or vagrants or raccoons in the antiquated wiring. the building was not secure.

now, it is beginning to feel like springtime. my son plays in his sandbox while i prune the berry canes and fill yard waste bags with sticks and english ivy - these things we pare away to make room for what we really want. i help his small fingers press sugar snap peas into the half-frozen ground.

soon, it will be spring migration, the hostas will leaf out in the side garden, and the lilies of the valley will pour their scent over the whole backyard, where it pools in the cool places and hollows under the trees.

in october, we are expecting a new baby girl. my brother and his wife have their first child due in november. incredible, all the places we could go from here.

* * *


reading: i am re-reading à la recherche du temps perdu. for two years after my son was born, i could only read essays and articles and short fiction and poetry, so i'd better do this now.
listening to: black lagoon, still corners, slow air.
working on: replacing the car - an unexpected and unwelcome expense that has cost all sorts of time and trouble.
in the garden: my brother came up to visit and ripped out more ivy in an hour than i could manage in a week. after the danger of frost has passed, i will replace it with perennials and conifers.


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