Mark of the maker

The two women held up a large item partially encased in bubble wrap. “Where does this go?” they asked. I stared. It took a second to recognize the stained glass lamp – because one side of it was caved in. “It hangs above the dining table,” I said. “But … it’s broken.” I was running … read more Mark of the maker

The quiet hours

The tea cup warms my hands as I sink back into the leather recliner and snuggle my feet under a fleece blanket. The only light comes from the lava lamp on the mantel and the faint glow of the skyscrapers across the way. There are no sounds at all. Branches make a sumi painting of … read more The quiet hours

New house

[Sunday, Jan. 15] We slept soundly, and woke up this morning in our own bed at last. It squeaked. Loudly. In the dozen years we’ve owned it, the frame hasn’t squeaked before. The movers left off some screws when they reassembled it. I’ve always loved the smell of this house that emanates fromĀ the raw wood … read more New house

Azalea restored

I pull into the driveway at 9 a.m. – no dumpster filling half of it, no portaJohn on the car pad. I have a lot of cleaning yet to do before the movers arrive. Many hoursĀ ahead of directing the crew, unpacking boxes and putting things away. Before the day begins, I want to just look … read more Azalea restored