Spring — the arrival thereof — has duly commenced here in southwest Ohio. I try never to rely solely on the weather when calculating things like the arrival of a warm season. I depend on other, surer signs: a small bout of insomnia, and a fit of cleaning.

Thankfully, both signs have now occurred, and I am recovering from them. I have just picked about 150 pounds of books to be sent to the used book store. Probably more is to come. I depend too much on my Kindle, so I don’t need paper copies. Besides, how many worn old copies of Agatha Christie does on need to keep, anyway?