a place to come and work and get stuff done.


The Best Day Ever.

They came in the night of Friday. Swooping across the distance in two day. One stop in Round up Montana,. I was not home there I was home in saint paul. We met in the morning. Hugs and introductions all around. bell remembered Mary. They were working in the back yard. Set up cutting and drawing. Drawing and cutting. The day radiated over them in a glorious wonder. Each to be “the best day ever.”

I saw piles of cloth. Small short stacks one after another being cut. Rounded at one end. They were feathers. For the Hope Machine. Mary exuded her energy that is so contagious. She was there here to push herself to do something she deemed not possible. Make the HM in the time she was here.

On the steps of the deck Loren sat hunched drawing. As was soon to be revealed she was in school. Mrs McCleary’s School of self Motivation.  She was working on an assignment. A bird fluttered under her pencils.

Surrounding them were the birds and the trees. The apple and the Willow. The chickadee’s were matting and the cardinals were red. The sparrows were chirping and  the starlings zipped about. bell rested among them like an old friend, content to live out the day sprawled on the deck or tucked in the weeds.

Randomness followed. I wanted to drop the piles of feathers from the third floor and pick them up. Mary acted by picking piles at as random she could from the piles after saying that was too messy. I went along bent over trying to pick feathers up in no pattern at all. Thinking that if you went from one end to the other a pattern would emerge. So we danced back and forth. Creating random.  I took a break at one time and the hiked the stairs. I did what I needed to and looked down hoping t video the making of random. But she was done. The piles were set.

One night we partied. It was the anniversary party. One year of marriage. I joined them at the kitchen table after they ate tacos. We drank and laughed. We talked about how much wood the two David’s had. We laughed.

Another night we went to Sergio’s and Emily’s. we met their baby. I drove them over and drank a fat tire beer with the group that showed up. Ben Peter Liz Andy S some parents from Cape Cod and their daughter. Colin I wan to say but think it is not. Jonas was there and brought copious amounts of morel mushrooms and them cooked them in a giant pan he brought as well. He cooked them in so much hope butter I was sure the I would like them no matter what. When I said I had to go he reached in and pulled one out and handed it to me. It lay on my hand to cool as we chatted goodbye.

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