20160320.0845

Spring would seem to have sprung, at least in terms of the motions of the earth through the celestial ether. Around Sherwood Cottage, the weather is less springlike today than it was last week; temperatures were in the freezing range this morning, and they are expected only to get up into the mid-50s F (13 C, if I remember my conversions correctly). For contrast, last week was in the 70s (F) and up. But I have not packed away my sweaters or my jackets, and Sherwood Cottage retains the window films the Mrs. and I put up each year to try to keep out at least some of the chill; we are well here, and in a position from which we can look out upon the cool day and appreciate not having to be out in it so much. So that part of things is good.

As spring springs, Spring Break at the schools where I teach is coming to its end. At this point, I have 5/6 of what I meant to get done during the break accomplished. There were three things I meant to do, noted here: grade papers, write a piece for the Tales after Tolkien Society blog, and write a paper for the International Congress on Medieval Studies. The first was done on Wednesday, the second then, too. On the third, I am halfway done, hence the fraction I report. I expect to be able to wrap up that particular piece of writing today; I have been working on other things as they have come to me, enjoying the relatively relaxed time of the break to do so. It has been nice, and I have enjoyed it. Tomorrow, however, begins a headlong rush towards the end of the term, and it will not be until it is over that I will have a break again.

So work is about to continue again. I do not know that I am ready for it to do so; I have been too much indolent on this break, sleeping later than I am accustomed to doing in response to the lack of structured activity, and feeling somewhat disoriented for doing so. (I likely have needed the rest, however.) Whether I am ready for it or not, however, I know that it must be done. It always does, whatever the season and whatever changes to the seasons may occur, however clearly or raggedly they may. I suppose, then, that I ought to get to it.