Wednesday

March 6

Went to get biscuits. Went into the woods and up through the hills. Went along then over the river. Now gray skies and rain. Put my hood on. Hunched against the cold and under the right piece of roof to stay dry and warm. Now book work—dialogue concerning breakfast, the game I Spy, and the rise of nationalism. (Later.) There’s a chill in the air, but it feels like springtime here in the South. Everything green and the rain falling. (Later.) Taking breaks from book work to stare at the hills—the dark earth, the bare trees, fog drifting through them like smoke.