Submarine.

May 9, Decatur.

In the trailer as it rained and rained yesterday we were floating, surrounded, hushed by water, rivers of rain drops on the window panes never more than three feet away, and soon they fogged up and still it kept raining.
There was a dove's nest in the field here this morning; it was crushed by one of the forklifts which drove right on through it despite the little arrow signs Chris had put there. He's the one who parks us and lays out the route with the arrows to guide us, and he had put markers around the nest so we would know there was something to watch out for. About a month ago he signaled another nest in the same manner; that one was right next to our trailer and Fridman watched it like a hawk all day; we saved the nest. The mother bird hovered around frantically for a while then came back to the nest and lay on her eggs. There is a sweetness in Fridman, how things like these make him sad in a way that doesn't show otherwise; it always comes as a surprise to me, this concern.
Better news: Grania, Sarah's daughter, turned one year old Wednesday and she had a birthday party at the cook house today. Sarah's mother flew in from New Hampshire in the morning for the occasion.