It’s been an exciting week in West Lebanon. The trees are almost done littering my lawn and the local weather has resembled anything you might find from Eastport, Maine to Key West, Florida.

You start the day with long johns and end with shorts; I don’t know how anyone gets work done with all the costume changes.

And there was an election. Back to that later.

On Tuesday morning as I began writing this, Vermont Public Classical played a long stretch of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, which I gather is more renowned than a Taylor Swift tune. It featured a magnificent choir singing about German thoughts and feelings while galloping to the big finish: The Ode to Joy.

The lyrics are a handful, since Beethoven couldn’t be bothered to write in accessible English in the manner of Ms. Swift. For those whose German has gotten rusty:

O friends, not these tones!

But let’s strike up more agreeable ones,

And more joyful.

Joy!

Joy!

(I cribbed this translation from Classicfm.com. English already gives me all I can handle.) The original lyrics employ delightful words like Gotterfunken, umschlungen and Rosenspur, leading to an ecstasy blowout. It’s got a lot going on: love, God, sweet nature, being drunk with fire, and all people becoming brothers.

When the Ode concluded, the sun popped through the clouds for the first time that day. I am not making this up. The universe (or the fundraisers at VP who play uplifting music during money drives) was sending me a message.

Joy!

Or, sign up for a sustaining membership to support your local public radio service. Not only will you ensure quality programming for future generations, you’ll get yourself a mug.

But all I had to do was turn on the television, or computer streams, to release another expression of German origin: sturm und drang. Merriam-Webster says “it literally means ‘storm and stress.’ ”

Again, from M-W, “Although it’s now a generic synonym of ‘turmoil,’ the term was originally used in English to identify a late 18th-century German literary movement whose works were filled with rousing action and high emotionalism, and often dealt with an individual rebelling against the injustices of society.”

If that doesn’t sound like 2024, then I’m a monkey’s uncle. (Can we still say that?)

I fled from the TV and rejoined the radio, since Handel was about to make a guest appearance, not in-studio. I looked out the windows at our two bird feeders, which were doing a land-office business. The chickadees elbowed their way to the front of the line, ahead of a titmouse, blue jay and a cardinal pair, here on an early lunch date. Since they didn’t have a reservation, they waited for an open table on the ground level.

Soon after, we drove up to the old Seminary Hill School to vote. It took about an hour, but it was very pleasant. People smile when they are doing their civic duty, and keeping their politics to themselves. “I’m still undecided” I told a couple of activists, which apparently was funnier in my own mind then it was when the words came out of my mouth.

The week was young, and there was more to look forward to. Our wedding anniversary was one day later, Nov. 6, and this being our 48th it felt like we deserved something, perhaps not a major prize, but a “lovely parting gift” like they used to have on TV game shows. Perhaps Broyhill furniture or a Collier’s Encyclopedia. Maybe a property tax exemption, too.

While Joe Biden had lousy approval ratings, things have been rosier for us at home. (Speaking from my perspective, at least.) There have been no recall movements in our little precinct of two. When someone is kind and true for close to 50 years, you stick with the incumbent.

As it happened Tuesday, the country went in a different direction than the one I suggested. I slept poorly that night — my Fitbit rated it as wretched.

So where are we now? It might take me four years to tease it out. It’s little — or really, no — consolation, but New York Times vote tallies confirm we are in the bubbliest of bubbles. With almost all the votes counted, Lyme led the state in Harris support, at 84.9%, and Hanover was just behind, at 84.3%. Bluecity Lebanon came in at 74.4. No wonder the result was a shock: We didn’t know anyone who voted for Trump!

On Election Day I heard several people say they were glad this toxic campaign was over. The sentiment was bipartisan. Finally, something unites us.

And as for joy, we will await its arrival with all the patience we can muster.

Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.