Today’s post started out like this:

Wednesday morning after Tuesday’s elections, there was a lot of rhetoric on En Pee Are. Let me share one comment with you:

“It’s time to turn this country around” said Mitch McConnell.

Greater and lesser Washington political horns honked all day about the midterm elections. Some of them tweeted. Here in central Maine, MPBN preempted their regular weekday morning radio schedule to provide election results and opinion. It was unfortunate because Robin Rilette’s “Morning Classical Music” is a thoughtful and melodic arrangement of sound. The show is welcome company on any day, cloudy or bright, with an occasional piece not heard on “mainstream” classical music stations.

I had planned to write a long, long piece about voting. The piece would end with some Deus ex machina-like hope, based on my idea that we can “turn this country around” by getting busy in our own “country.” You know, the real world we live in every day, our homes and communities. Just another post about the “power of local” and how peace and prosperity, whatever that is, begins with me. It begins with you.

I was going to call it “A Jeremiad for the Living.”

It sounded good in theory and the word “jeremiad” would surely ramp up the blog traffic.

But in a “jeremiad,” the author generally ends with a prophecy. I have never been very good at public prophecy. On Thursday, Robin Rilette was back on the radio and even though standing at the voting machine for thirteen hours had been grueling, life was moving forward from the election upheaval.

I had a long post-election yackety-yack with Gina; her son, Garrett Mason was re-elected state senator for District 22 and he’s up for a leadership position. Then our conversation turned to Moxie, table lamps, and who we’d seen at the polls.

My mother called; she asked me how I’d enjoyed my day at the polls and then asked if she and my father could borrow my Jeep because they were having some car trouble.

It’s funny how life gets back to normal, whatever normal might be.

I fell asleep laughing about things last night, with the rain tapping gently on the roof. I was amused how my “dream” of working at the polls in my hometown with my mother had finally come true, in the gymnasium of my elementary school, no less. Next Friday, I’ll tell you two stories about the old Marion T. Morse building, now called the “MTM Center.”

The writer’s almanac will be on shortly. I’m officially a “writer.” Here’s the piece I wrote for the Sun Journal this past weekend.

Then Robin Rilette will bring some beautiful music to radio listeners.

Somewhere, the sun is shining and the weather puppets predict some for this weekend here. I think I’ll rake leaves and plant garlic and tulips, maybe some daffodils. Maybe Monday I’ll write “A Jeremiad for the Leaving.”

As the autumn leaves have fallen, I see the Androscoggin River from my kitchen sink. I’ve noticed I have my own beautiful trees to love and behold, too. It’s going to be a wonderful day in Maine.

How’s that for your Deus ex machina?