Three deer out the window this morning, first thing, quite entertaining, watching them watch us through the glass doors. At my stone wall garden, nibbling at something I’ve been growing. They are hungry and playful and bold. The special one is completely delighted and wants to get outdoors early, after pancakes, to find the white tails who ran away when we opened the door. We do go out, and we don’t find them, but we do get muddy and wet and we see the Eastern Bluebird in the front yard and the back yard, and we hear an owl calling for quite some time. The river is high. The wetlands spread. The air warms and a sense of spring arrives. We play in the sandbox and I remove some dead leaves blown in over the sand. Frank is away all weekend, but the house is busy with my daughters. In the late afternoon I drive to Weymouth. My friend, the poet Gloria Monaghan, also recently published by Lily, is having her in-person book launch. I have tweaked my back wrestling with the special one and I can’t stay through the whole thing. Some back rest is a necessity. But I am counting on feeling better tomorrow. Frank is so rarely away over the weekend on business. The household is missing him. The days are long and sunny. Another spring soon, days away!