This past week was about as busy as I get. My ex was visiting all week, staying here, so much time with family, including a sleepover here with our energetic grandboys.

I posted this on Facebook and received over 80 warm replies:

As well as family duties, I was trying to keep up with the garden, watering, pruning, fertilizing the sprawling bean plants with nary a bean in sight, the constant battle with slugs. A keen student arrived from Edmonton to take the writing workshop and stayed here. The woman from whom we bought this house in 1986 dropped in for a visit. I went briefly to enjoy chic cocktails with my talented friend Alanna and her partner Myles in their artist loft-type space.

The day-long garden workshop involves a huge amount of prep: making lunch for eleven people, gardening, getting out and scrubbing the spare chairs, cleaning and setting up the house, preparing the prompts.

The workshop launched at 10 a.m. yesterday. There were supposed to be 12, including a 17-year-old boy, but he was ill and another couldn’t make it, so there were ten. Three of them brought their published books to show and to sell. And as always, it was a joy to hear minds at work and pens scratching (devices are forbidden) at first on the deck, and then spread throughout the garden. The weather was perfect, mild and a bit cloudy. And much good work was done. We finish always with a glass of wine and discussion; one of the participants suggested they establish a Zoom link and continue to get together, to support each other’s work. Nothing could make me happier.

And in the middle of it all, the news that Biden had resigned. Thank god! I don’t know if Kamala Harris is the right person to succeed him, there are stronger candidates. But at least now there’s hope the unthinkable might be averted.

Now, today, silence. Regrouping. Taking a breath. On Tuesday, to a Blue Jays game with Anna and the boys for Ben’s birthday — my first time at a professional baseball game, to the disbelief of my family. And this coming Sunday, my 74th birthday party. So I will enjoy this last week of 73. And perhaps not do much.

We’ll see how that plays out.