September 14, 2018

One evening I looked out the back window and saw a cloud of dragonflies hovering and towering over the lawn. They seemed not to be interested in the pond. I had never seen such a thing– like a vertical migration.

Fleas on me, but not, so far as I can find, on the cats. I spray and they’re gone for a day or so. I check every twinge, every tickle on me to see if it’s a hated black speck. Almost never is, but often enough to keep the energy up.

Not very productive days–much napping, much achievement of minor chores. Good classes, I think, though what are they thinking behind their smiles or blank visages? One girl sleeps through most of class, misses the exam (for no particular reason), then can’t make up the exam because every moment she’s not in class she’s practicing with the track team. I say, “skip something.” She says, “I’ll talk to my coach.” She’s sweet, and her sweetness deflects wrath. You get into trouble if you say, “drop now; you can’t possibly succeed,” though it is the truth. Neither class remembers being told that “amount” is for measurable things and “number” for countable.

Hurricane Florence already hammering the Carolina coast. It’s dead calm here at this hour, but everyone prepares for the worst, buys out the grocery stores. I have liquor, mixers, radishes, cabbage, bratwurst, consider myself prepared.

Evening: after class I engaged in deep gardening, finally getting the round garden in the back dug up, ready to be mulched. No more exhausted than I would have been had I done nothing at all–maybe less. Planted allium and iris. The sky to the north– what I can see from the study window– is flamingo and azure.