March 4, 2017

The night freeze took the blossoms of the magnolia. What were pink chalices are now tatters of pale brown parchment. Peach and nectarine seem to have sailed through.

Amazingly accomplished day: Sat in the High Five and wrote a sad poem for Lent. Then off to the studio, where I had maybe the best day of recent memory, finishing, beginning, continuing, achieving my first serious entry into the world of watercolors. Came home and launched into the garden, assembling and  filling one of the raised beds which are meant to conquer the gravelly ground eastward. Through all this I was less tired and sore than on days of far less activity, suggesting a way around the perception of the long decline. All in all, an encouraging portent for retirement, if I can find that much to do that doesn’t involve the purgatory of submission.

Evening a little sadder, but there was sherry.