Morning Thanks--a room of my own*

There is one little basement window above my head and to the right. On mid­winter days, the sun rides so low in the southern sky that for a time in early afternoon it shines directly in my face, which means I can't work here--at least not on the computer. Any other time of day or year, this little corner of my basement is a sweet place to sit--warm in winter, cool in summer.

There is, after all, comforting silence all around, the opportunity to be very much alone. Virginia Woolf forever linked the phrase to the plight of women artists, but she'll forgive me, I think, if a male such as I abscond with her line right now because I think the necessity of what she points out--that we all need our own space--transcends the gender wars. Everybody may know your name in your neighborhood Cheers, but solitude is a blessing, a joy, even a requirement for the work I do.

So, this morning, here, in this corner of my basement, early in the morning, I'm thankful for a room of my own. And yes, it is a bit of a mess.

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*When I started to blog--2006 or 07 maybe--everything originated from my basement study in the old Jongewaard house, where we lived for 25 years or more, where we raised our children. That old clunky desktop has long-ago been replaced (more than once for sure); that printer is far better than the cheapie I have beside me now; the desk is the same, although it's dark gray today, painted when we moved, 12 years ago. The chair's the same--Aeron from Zeeland, MI, bought it, factory second, right from the back door of Herman Miller years and years ago. Wouldn't change it for the world. The stereo is now a smart speaker. If this were a better picture, you'd find much the same clutter as you'll find on the shelves full of books--more here actually--that now surround me.

This week, Thanksgiving week, I'll just pull out some old "morning thanks," blog posts from thousands of posts through the years. The old Garrison Keillor line, as if it were scripture itself, is still up top, even though I failed miserably. The kind of commitment I started with was too indomitable a target. This was going to be a gratitude journal, but giving daily thanks every morning for something different is a task for a better man than I am. 

Anyway, all week this week, some old "Morning Thanks" posts.

And, oh yeah, there's new "stuff in the basement." I was a late-minute stand in for Jonis Agee, a Nebraska novelist just last Sunday night in Omaha; the stand-in got the prize: the 2023 Word Sender Award, this great sculpture. It's new down here. Just a week old.