Saturday, October 05, 2013

up on the roof, continued

The roof replacement project stalls as both Ed and I have work to do in the morning. Clouds hovered over the forested hills...


...and eventually the rain comes down, washing away some of that climbing and lifting energy we had. Back to the books again. These days I take my work to the south facing front room (how else to call a space that long ago used to be a front porch?). It brings the coveted winter sunshine indoors all season long. Soon we'll be eating breakfast there too. Soon? Oh dear, we really are that close to winter.


It rains and it rains some more. The dusty pale colors of the cornfields take on a richer hue. A last burst of green and gold color before it all goes away.

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In the afternoon, the skies settle into their humid, occasional drip mode.
Want to carry some glass up?

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Sure, we have some minor missteps. Like trying to fit in the center trapezoid the wrong way. (My fault.) Or resting the glass in the living room while Isis, confused beyond hope, tries to walk through it. But by the time it was too dark to do anymore, we had hoisted and fit in five more panels. So we have nine up and only six to go.

The routine of carrying up glass is, right now, so set, so predictable, that the temptation is to just keep on truckin' until the whole batch is in place. That would give us a glass ceiling by the end of the weekend. But I tell Ed that we need to switch focus. The glass isn't clamped down yet. I want to see whether he can get the screws in without shattering the panels. And he has to design a different edging at the overhang. Something easy and durable and thin enough so that the rain and snow can just wash right over it.

And I need to put some heavy duty hours of reading under my belt if I'm to take off next Thursday eve or else I'll be traveling with great folders of work. I want so very much to have at least one weekend free of scholarly writings. Let the mind go soft. Let other senses kick in.

In the meantime, I make a batch of broccoli soup to keep us going for a while. October, November -- these are broccoli soup months in my mind. Ed picked up some corn from a road stand, we still are reeling with tomatoes -- this is what good autumn suppers are made of.

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The end of the week. A good week. But then, aren't they all, at heart, good weeks?