"A large fire was blazing on the hearth and the scent from burning logs of juniper and cedar was wafted far across the island. Inside, Calypso was singing with her beautiful voice as she went to and fro at her loom, weaving with a golden shuttle. The cave was sheltered by a copse of alders and fragrant cypresses, which was the roosting-place of wide-winged birds, horned owls and falcons and cormorants with long tongues, birds of the coast, whose business takes them down to the sea."
And lost at sea the City has been. Or else stranded on an island fragrant with burning juniper and cedar. Cold months and hotter ones have passed, wet and dry, abroad and at home, lost, and again, found. It's been a long time sitting fallow, but work is underway on the book again. Provided the gods have lifted their curse, expect to see its sails filled by a gentle breeze and heading for Ithaca someday soon.