Yesterday was my first day back. I worked in the garden, I worked in the house, I even had a little dance party while frying green tomatoes. It felt so good to be fizzy again.

I'm still not completely well: lots of residual sinus crap, and my taste buds are still screwed up, and I'm very slow in the mornings, which is an odd lingering symptom, because I am usually what my friend Teresa calls "an extreme lark"--up very early, and instantly fluttering.

But despite yesterday's slow morning, I rousted myself to pick all of the green tomatoes. I cleaned floors and made overnight bread starter; I cut grasses and flowers for drying; I tore out tomato vines and cut down dead annuals and picked what might be the last of the green beans. I put away window fans and washed the mantelpiece and filled the vases with zinnias and dried wheat.

I got so much done yesterday that I'll be happy to sit around and think about it today, if that's what my body requires. But I expect I'll still be puttering. I've got bread to bake, and I'll roast green tomatoes for salsa verde, and maybe I'll make a few green tomato pickles. I'll tear out some more fading annuals in the garden . . . the sunflowers are making a sad show, and I should take pity on them.

For now, though, it is so pleasant just to be sitting upright, drinking coffee, caring about the world.