August 1, 2019 – Back on my two feet again & Emily Dickinson

         Back on two feet again as I slowly work up to a full day.  My little luxury of a gal coming to do some housework for a couple hours once a week has been switched to every two weeks now.  I didn’t dare go cold turkey. I was certain I wouldn’t be able to stay ahead of my housework during this process of coming off the air boot into an athletic shoe so I opted that she pop in every so often to keep my housework on track.  

         I must admit it was less stress worrying about the house [and better for me] as I camped out with my foot up watching the cobwebs grow, dust bunnies collect, and God only knew what was accumulating on the kitchen floor.

         Slowly getting back to normal life, I’ve made it to church the second week without too much ado. This week I plan on my first solo outing to see The Belle of Amherst one-woman play at the Maple Street Theatre.  When the stage lights go down, I hope I don’t groan in agony getting my foot comfortable in the dark.

         Why go to a play about some obscure poet?  No, she is not that obscure. Emily Dickenson is a poet from Massachusetts and my snob ‘roots’ are merely showing. [I was born in Massachusetts.] I don’t really know that much about her.  I haven’t read much of her poetry, but I was impressed that once a year there is a gathering of poet types that spend a day or two reading every one of her poems at her homestead in Amherst. [Yankee Magazine, September 2018 issue.] Talk about keeping her memory and her poetry alive, clever idea.  You can read about it here: https://newengland.com/yankee-magazine/living/reading-emily/

         Back in college English, we all had to do a research paper on an American Poet and I leaned towards her as she had short nature poems I was a tiny bit familiar with and perused many and eventually picked “Apparently with no surprise” – LXXVI is the number assigned to it.  The title of my paper about Emily’s poem was “Hoar frost - the blond assassin.”  I thought it was a clever title as I had just learned about hoar frost in college biology.   Kid stuff - that was decades ago and I could have recited the poem back then. But alas, I had to look it up and print it out to re-learn it. 

         As an avid gardener I feel it hasn’t lost its eternal glimpse at nature.

LXXVI

Apparently with no surprise

To any happy flower,

The frost beheads it at its play

In accidental power.     

The blond assassin passes on,

The sun proceeds unmoved

To measure off another day

For an approving God.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

         For those of you who are familiar with it;  did it help turn you into a gardener or re-affirm you as a gardener?