Living in the Shoebox is a little bit like camping. Our walls have the thickness of cork board. Whatever temperature it is outside, that's the temperature it's going to be in here. I woke up this morning and I thought my toes were frozen together. Although my nightgown did have the weight of a handkerchief, I'm still going to be investing in some woolen socks and a space heater.
A male cardinal and a dump truck in the Newman parking lot woke us up this morning. I'd rather it were just the cardinal.
I find it hard to believe that tomorrow starts October. I feel like I should know more things now than I do. I think of Denver, too, and begin to miss it a little.
"It could be that God has not absconded but spread, as our vision and understanding of the universe have spread, to a fabric of spirit and sense so grand and subtle, so powerful in a new way, that we can only feel blindly of its hem. In making the thick darkness a swaddling band for the sea, God 'set bars and doors' and said, 'Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further.' But have we come even that far? Have we rowed out to the thick darkness, or are we all playing pinochle in the bottom of the boat?" -- Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard