I see Lake Minnetonka this morning, whipped by a cold wind into stiff peaks. The sky above echoes the chop in the water, clouds in hard clumps, gradually greying into a flinty overcast. A few icy drops splatter now and then on my sleeve. After weeks of frost-free, almost balmy weather, our high only reaches the low fifties and our low will drop below freezing.

I keep warm digging in the garden, transplanting a blueberry and planting a viburnum in its place. It takes a long time, turning manure and peat into the heavy clay soil, and removing all too many rocks. But I’m conscious of taking my time. I don’t want to harm the blueberry, and I want to give them both the best possible new homes that I can.

It pains me to move the blueberry, but I want the bigger screen of a viburnum at the edge of our yard, and blueberries in the sun in front of them… two more blueberries to move, and one more viburnum to plant, but not today.