Dear Marion,
A postscript: The only time I recollect being spanked by
my mother, I don't remember why, but I do remember that
since she felt guilty, ( and I didn't), I consoled her
with the explanation that I hadn't minded at all: ich sei
endlich warm geworden, denn es war ein kalter Wintertag.
As for my father, he not infrequently criticised me:
Du aufgeblasener Frosch! which after all is precisely
what you have been trying to get across to me. It's
obvious why your criticism makes me feel very much at home,
and why I can't thank you enough.

Your description of your being sheltered in place
on account of the pyridine spill is more vivid than anything
my imagination can conjure up, - and makes me jealous.

Even though the calendar says October 1, and it's turned cold
and rainy, the hummingbird refuses to migrate. She still
frequents the feeder from dawn to dusk, and for all I know
at night, when I can't see her.

For reasons I don't understand, my sleep pattern has changed.
Not long ago, I was going to bed at midnight, and waking from
deep sleep at 9 a.m., more or less. Now I awaken at 5 a.m.
with novel thoughts on my mind, turn on and write at the computer
until I fall asleep, go back to bed in midmorning and sleep
until early afternoon, at which I time I resume writing.
It's turned out to be a very productive rhythm, with the
consequence perhaps that my letters may become shorter,
but you can consider, if you want to, what appears on my
website as being addressed to you.
Jochen.