Today, I'll be back to editing and syllabus planning, and eventually I'll undertake some extreme vacuuming to clean up after all of this trim installation. Tom's still got a threshold to urethane and fit, and then a batch of door trim to put up inside the bathroom. But that's the only ugly framing gash still glowering downstairs. Given that five doorways open into the kitchen and hall, this trim project has made a huge difference in the house . . . a giant step forward toward done.
I doubt I'll have much chance to write this week--I've got so much work to muscle through before leaving for Chicago. I do have a poetry-group meeting tomorrow night, though, so that's something, I've been feeling Merwin's loss deeply, pondering his long apprenticeship to the art, his deep sense of obligation to place. He has been a model for all of us, in those ways.
1 comment:
His prose work "The Lost Upland" is still a favourite. A friend ran into him in a store in Hawaii. She said he was very gracious. RIP Mr. Merwin.
Post a Comment