Friday it was spring and April; today it's spring and March--cold! The magnolia are gone and the forsythia long gone; in Morris Park the white petals have fallen from the bloodroot--but spring beauties are everywhere and violets and mertensia. No sign of the trout lilies yet; May apples have opened their umbrellas, Solomon's seal and false Solomon's seal have hung their leaves on the line but not yet in bloom. After weeks of walking the streets, knocking on hundreds of doors, talking politics, attending rallies, grading papers and more papers, preparing for classes, at last it's winding down. Time to breath again. I still have stacks of papers to grade, and after Saturday, the finals, but classes are over and the primary is over. I'm looking forward to a summer of reading--time to read poetry again, which I've missed. Time to finish this novel. Time to write posts on for Barking Dog, to visit book sites, rejoin Sunday Salon.
I have notes on Richard Ford's "Leaving for Kenosha," the first of the New Yorker stories I plan to write about. I thought I might have the first of these up today but I find I need sleep on what I read if there are to be any thoughts worth exposing in public. Until I turn in my final grades I'll be dividing my time between end of term teaching duties and my summer reading and writing schedule. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to post on one story a day until I've gone though the stack of New Yorkers on my list. Thirteen of them now. Lucky me!
Tomorrow: Richard Ford.
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