January 9, 2024

Unbelievable inclemency: rain, thunder, lightning; chants from the Valaam Monastery trying to cut the dread. 

Rose full of energy to write and paint and not be turned aside from my intent by any number of defeats. 

Painting steadily, but as it’s reworking old works, not adding to the trove of canvasses. I read in The New York Review of Books a description of Pissarro and Cezanne that also works for me: They possessed a gift for visual inquiry without any particular talent for painting. 

The exterminator guy was here to check the basement. He lives in Candler, and said Hominy Creek is already at people’s front doors. 

Cancellation of Symphony Chorus tonight like winning the lottery.

Susan Stevenson is dead.