Life goes on with all its meetings, the business of running the shop, the care of my youngest, the constant street outreach that my partner calls our sociological emergency room. I've been unable to get to the land for several days, but my partner has gone out whenever he can, continuing the cleanup. As I type he is out there with our oldest son, filling a truck with garbage.
In ten years a lot changes; he reports finding things left under tarps "just for the time being" that have moldered into shapes from some prehistoric movie. Clothing, blankets, unrecognizable detritus. The forest swallows things up. It is a daunting process.
Meanwhile we continue talking of size, position, and what is needed. He worries about enough room for the books; I show him my calculations.
I pin pictures of the most unlikely and lovely interiors to my Pinterest account. Unlikely that we shall have crystal chandeliers. But it is good to notice how much I like them.
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