The sunroom windows are a teacher’s display of oak, locust and maple leaves, plastered flat by the rain. Above and through them I can see holdouts, loads of hold out leaves, hesitant to take their last journey. Outside the tropical houseplants are doing their shrieks of horror at the cold…

The clock marks the time faster and noisier than ever, as I sit in the bright light of the kitchen. It is still dark outside, contradicting the clock’s noise and the position of its hands. Merv studies languages and I drink coffee, in a big cup on a saucer. His…

The long dining room table still has the salt shakers askew, and napkin rings hollow, napkins plopped nearby. The candles are snuffed out and crumbs wait on the final wash of the table. The high chair is pulled up to a setting Victorian in its array of spoons, laid out…

There is a new dog here, says Annie, in disgust, as she races up the ladder to the cupola at the top of the house. The house does not care, for there is a baby here. Ah, the baby sizes up the house for the things that matter. Circles. …

I am sitting on the deck at 7:00 in the morning. I have on a light jacket, and a wrap over my legs. That is enough. I look over the hill and the trees behind the house, the hill that borders the vineyard behind us. A very large old walnut…

The coffee gurgles. The clock ticks. Judge is sleepy and, as a matter of fact, so am I, with a meeting in an hour or so that suggested the alarm should be set. Time speeds up, though the clock keeps its rhythm and its 8 day nature pretty well for…

The morning comes as a clear autumn day, a day to walk in the woods and come home to a long glass of cider. The fall flowers grow every which way, making the most happenstance of pilings up into gardens. The leaves ready themselves for the their great journey, after…

I am in the sunroom of the Tall house, with my coffee in a submariner’s cup. I am at the small cafe table under a half full moon, watching the half moonlight on the lawn behind the house. The table and chairs outside were finally used, for a picnic lunch…

I am sitting at the sunroom table under the windows at the corner. The light through the tall trees surrounding the house tells me that dawn is coming. Intentions for a laundry day are suspended in the dumb waiter in a basket, if dirty clothes are intentions. They seem more…

Nancy Adams

Journalist covering old news of the day

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