I’m busy reading - dissertations and books and letters from the archive, but sometimes my mind starts to wander and I begin to feel restless and the only thing to do is to go outside and deadhead flowers, find weeds to weed, or in this case, a squirrel’s thirty-some nut cache to dig up. I wouldn’t mind the nut caches if the squirrel didn’t forget them completely and leave them to sprout into what becomes a miniature oak forest.