Today we drove down to the Florence Griswold Museum (Lyme, CT), where Delycia took a an hour-long walk and I sat down by the river and read and wrote. It's a lovely setting -- the old trees leaning over the water, reeds stretching away in the shallows, and the river bending and disappearing among hills in the distance. There were artists with their easels all around me (something we often see at this museum), and shore birds sang and swooped as I read a few chapters of Middlemarcb and polished a little poem I started at home after breakfast.  

(Below, scenes along the Lieutenant River, where the museum is located.)