January 22, 1997

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At 7 am the thermometer on the back porch read: 47 degrees. Yesterday's rain had melted all the snow, the air was damp and soft, the morning luminous. I thought I was going to have a good day. People have been crawling out of the woodwork all day. Asking for things. But I'm all out. Clean empty.

A Mother's Journal

field notes from
1997 - 1999