Wednesday, December 6, 2017

I think--and I hope this isn't magical thinking--that I am done with the upstairs floors. So, for the moment, I have almost nothing to do at the house. I might wash caulk smears off a few windows today, and I might touch up a paint gash in my study. I could shop-vac up a load of ugly dirt. I could investigate the garden to see if any of the remaining kale leaves are worth harvesting.

I am also contemplating the idea of bringing my laptop to the house and trying to write or revise something. I have not yet attempted to put words together in those rooms, and I wonder how the ghost will react when I do. Perhaps all I'll do is copy out another Levine poem, but that would be a good experiment too.

Losing the Harmony house was terrible, not least because it was the place where I made so many books. This doll-house apartment has not been at all conducive to my version of art, and I wonder what I will do if the Alcott House also turns out to be wordless. I don't think it will, but I worry.

2 comments:

Carlene said...

Perhaps it would be an interesting experiment to fill the house with your voice and your music as well? Read poems aloud and let them echo in the spaces. Play your fiddle and let the melody infuse the new paint. Claim the space before the hectic comfort-chaos of daily living creates routines.

You've given the house love and attention; it's only natural it will reward you as well.

Happy St. Nicholas Day! May your shoes be filled with delightful things!

David (n of 49) said...

What an idea, Carlene! Brilliant you. :)