Rolling out of bed on Monday morning is difficult, especially after a week end of beautiful weather. Except for a short trip each year to a place far away, I think I could be happy just staying here each day. I have spent years setting up “centers” for myself around here – fruit trees, the woods, a place to paint, a quiet spot to write, my garden, the chickens, the small burning pile near the woods, the keeping room at sundown when the light filters through the blinds and a fresh cup of coffee to sip will I watch, and my kitchen. I spent a bit too much time in the kitchen this past Saturday – I have to stop looking at recipe books during the week. I made 8 loaves of persimmon, carrot, sweet potato, and pumpkin bread, spinach lasagna, vegetable soup, and Texas brownies with made from scratch icing. I went crazy in there escaping to the outdoors to plant sweetpeas (the flower), turnip and carrot seeds, and broccoli plants while things baked and simmered. Anyway, I could handle more of this; I may just understand why Emily Dickinson never left home for 26 years.