Dudley has arrived! 8 lbs. 7 oz., 20 1/2 inches long. His name has been changed to protect the innocent -- and to honor the uncle he didn't get named for!

Comparing pictures to his sister when she was born, we find the following: Emma was VERBAL from the start! Dudley is quiet, content, serene. He only cries for a reason. Mostly he sleeps, of course. His horoscope said he would be easy. (Hers didn't!) We expect lovely, gentle, amiable things from him in future. He will be a late bloomer.

Comparing parents, those of Emma were skittish, nervous, and protective. The parents of Dudley took him to the pool at the grandparents' hotel when he was four days old, and to the art museum the day after.

Everyone is happy. Except Emma, sometimes. The first time she needed something when her mom was busy feeding her brother and couldn't help, she said, No Want Dudley!

This sentiment continues, off and on. But we have a picture of her stroking his face. That too.

Emma is looking forward to the arrival of her baby brother. Sort of. When her crib was moved into his room and replaced by the bunk bed, she was excited. But later she told her mother she wanted grampa to come back with the big boxes the bunk bed had come in and take it away.

She often plays with a little boy in the neighborhood who has a baby brother, eighteen months old. Emma loves that little brother. She hugs him and kisses him, she likes to take care of him and protect him. Three weeks ago she started squeezing his head!

So Emma has mixed feelings about a baby brother, though, as her mom says, she likes the "concept."

We'll see. We'll know shortly!

More news from the country! It's been a rough couple of weeks. A much loved local teacher -- which does not begin to describe who she was or how much everybody loved her -- and expert rider died near her home after a fall from her horse. In addition to feeling the community's grief for her and her husband and son, I also felt an unexpected survivor guilt and need to control everything else i thought I could control, including how my daughter and grand daughter live their lives down to the smallest detail of talking on cell phones and crossing streets. Anything and everything can change so stunningly, in an instant and without warning. I want that to stop!

I thought I was over J's death when Louis and I went out of town for the afternoon and evening Saturday, leaving Amos and Phoebe here on their own. Driving back, we noticed some evidence of a rainstorm -- wet streets, minor debris -- but when we turned into our driveway, we were blocked from progressing by three or four large tree limbs, one of which turned out to be a whole dogwood tree, across the drive. The storm seemed to have passed right through our property, leaving land on either side of us unscathed.

There's a message in there somewhere. Not that somebody has it in for me, not that one. The message is about control, how I haven't got it.

We were lucky. While there were several trees whose tops had been lopped off by the storm, including one in the woods whose trunk was too big for me to get my arms around and which had been split only a couple of feet above Louis's head -- nothing had hit the (1) pets, (2) house, or (3) truck.

We heard of one family who left to go grocery shopping while their house was without electricity and came back to find that their house had burned to the ground from an electrical surge once the storm had passed.

Everything can change in an instant and without warning. Our broken trees stand as a sign. When the paper shredder jammed yesterday, I spent an hour digging out little pieces of shredded paper like a madwoman. Not LIKE a madwoman. I'm a little nuts with anxiety and rage. I think I fed it too much paper. I remember wondering how much it could take.

I couldn't fix it. I think I'll have to get a new one, which makes me blush with shame. Which makes me want to cry.

I'm writing you in an effort to let go. I'm writing you to warn you of what you already know: things can change in an instant and you have no control. I'm writing to tell you that I love you.

Hey you up North. Spring is on the way. The geese were honking and flying overhead this morning, on their way to you.

We have daffodils. Part of the cardinals song sounds like "pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty".

Writers, take heart! When I turn in my manuscript for Degrees of Latitude this month to Four Way Books, it will have been 18 years to the day since I began this project! Can you believe it? It better be good!

We had a spectacular Christmas with a week-long visit from Emma and her mom. Emma, now 18 months old, is no longer a baby, but a real little girl. I hadn't seen her for four months, so I could hardly believe how grown up she was. I'm never letting that much time go by again! When she's thirty-five, if I'm still on this earth, and especially if I'm not, she's gong to see her G not less than every two months!

May 2007 bring us all health, happiness, peace and productivity!