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The more things change...

Change is not so much what we make as it is what happens to us unawares. Not everything that changes is progress but it is inevitable that everything changes. The seasons flow on, all too quickly. We tighten our life-vests, and try to steer clear of the rocks. Along our way down the river, we are grateful for every resting place. Here's ours. Above, as it was in our first August here in 2016, and below, as it is now. We still miss the old cherry tree in the foreground of the first photo. It died the year after we moved here. We've carved a garden out of the hill and planted blueberries on the slope above. One thing hasn't changed. We're still here. It's still home. We'll hold to that reality as long as we can.


 Some nights, when I can't sleep, I get up, make a cup of tea, and, if there are no words in my head to write, I watch the live feed from the Drovers Gap streetcam while I sip. If you're out walking your dog on Main Street past midnight, and kick the poor beast, I might see you.

I'd be disappointed in you but I wouldn't tell anyone. If you did anything really interesting, however, you could wind up in my next book.


Henry's books.

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