I looked out of the plane window this afternoon and laughed for memory of the treeless plain that is Oklahoma. Pah.

I swear I will not lose it.
The danger of summer break is that I slip back into old habits as easily as I slip into the top bunk in my old bedroom.
But I have gained too much ground this year to simply retreat. Summer is not going to be a retreat. Nor will it be a stagnation. Indeed, let it be known here and now that I will not let go. It would be so easy to just crawl back into the old mold. But I don't fit there anymore; I don't want to fit there anymore. All it requires is a bit of exertion on my part.
Goodbye, Colleen.

I just realized the beauty of coming back to New England in May. I get two springtimes. In Tulsa springtime was waning: here it is just coming into fullness. The azaleas are out and the lilac tree is heavy-scented. The dogwood smiles pinkly, and the lilies of the valley wait to be sought out. The wild plum is through blooming, but the Japanese maple is still dark and burgundy.
I took a walk when I got home. This is the most beautiful place in the world. The road winds over hills and trees crowd the sides and push back the sky.

I am going to go read Calvin and Hobbes. Then I shall sleep the sleep of the blessed and the weary.