It’s hard to keep a good Muse down. She’s back, I think, in spite of some formidable challenges, including a totally flooded basement and the destruction of tons of treasures, coupled with surgery that ended up considerably more “major” than predicted. In a word, I’ve been out of commission for several weeks. I’ve lacked time and energy to keep up with the sources of stories so I don’t even know what I’ve missed. Past notes and photos are reminders of blogs and articles that have gone unwritten. I can’t say I’m back to full speed, but I’m at least able to see the proverbial light.
At this point I’m dealing with painters, plasterers, carpet layers, decisions and more decisions. All this with a mighty throbbing head that doesn’t understand the concept of “minor” surgery. Poking Around remains a fairly stationery enterprise for the moment – in part to keep track of the contractors and in part to conceal the fact that my head is wrapped like a mummy, striking fear among young children and understandable stares from those concerned about space invaders.
Many years ago I received one of my favorite letters from an aunt who was “in her 101st year” at the time. She finished her delightful epistle by writing in perfect Palmer method hand, “We have much to be thankful for….” The phrase is carefully “x’d” out and replaced thus: “We have much for which to be thankful.” As an unreconstructed English major I have always thought Do not go gentle into that deep night dangling a participle in your wake. In recent weeks my appreciation of the “thankful” message has intensified appreciably.
The Muse summons and I rejoice that I am at the ready to heed the call.