We stayed this week in something like a bungalow. Three bedrooms, two set inside the roof without even the headroom dormers would afford. A single bath for the five of us. And the best part Victoria and I didn’t discover until the second day – a screened porch, just outside the kitchen window. I’m not sure I lived […]
In the morning, I can read only in her basement. Every other room has someone sleeping in it, usually on a couch or floor. Betty’s house is small, but it’s big enough. One toilet and bath got seven of us through with a little charity. I fixed the toilet yesterday and was treated like a […]
Bethany at work in Kenyon’s metal shop yesterday. She and two other sculpture majors share a studio the size of a small townhouse. It has a twenty-five-foot ceiling and its own bay door for installation art. Bethany, however, likes to make miniature pieces. The new studio art building opened while she was in Japan.
in which God gets my attention through textual insight. I love taking photographs just before or after early- or late-day sunshowers: the rich, angled light hits its subjects full in the face, and the sky is a dramatically dark backdrop. The devil is beating his wife, in fact, just now – the sun and its […]
The comforter is half-folded over with the upsweep of a snow bank against a house, if you’ll picture my wife’s edge of the bed as the house. Certainly, I am comparing a floor-plan perspective with an elevation, as it were, but you may ignore the rest of this paragraph: it may be worth your time instead to see the comforter just so. She made the bed before she left, and I have not disturbed her side of it except to take her pillow. She comes back Monday. The sheets are pink, and the top one entwines with a thin, cotton blanket, the sheet’s yin swirling with the blanket’s yang. Miles above them, the comforter’s displeasure is a perfect crescent.