As I write I am looking out the windows (there are two) from my breakfast room, dining room, work room table. It’s April 16th, at 9:26am, and it is cold and raining, and darker than it ought to be at this time of day according to my thinking. I am deciding what to do when I finish this note. Friday is a “work outside” day – there is grass that needs mowing, trees that need trimming, briars that need cutting, piles of debris that need to burn, and a bunch more flowers that my bride expected to find in the ground yesterday, or maybe the day or two before. I don’t…