Down Cole Ave.

I woke up late this morning after staying up late to read a children's book with Emma (Finn Family Moomintroll, anyone? "All the small beasts should wear bows in their tails!"). A singer-songwriter played for us at Williams' weekly Log Lunch - delicious vegetarian meal prepared by students, & guest environmental speaker, or in this case, warbler. The afternoon went to Junot Diaz and his book (thank God that Oscar's life, however wondrous, is brief), and was to be finished by dinner at the home of a retired Williams professor, who helps out with a Sunday gathering called "the Feast" - a progressive Christian dinner and time of discussion, reflection, and fellowship. There was a two hour gap, however, between tossing in my laundry and heading to the Cramptons' house. Just enough time for a photo expedition.

Charles and I drove out Cole Ave. and up to Pine Cobble to park, then walked back towarsd the river and the old coal silos beside it.







It got into the high 30s in Williamstown today, so we expected a warm trek. Fiddlesticks. Once more I relied on gallantry to supplement my flimsy WalMart mittens - when my hands became immobile with cold, Charles lent me his gloves. You forget what a good deal the sun has to do with temperature.



I didn't get too many satisfactory shots (and the ones you see here are entirely unedited), but I certainly worked for what I had. By the time I got to the Crampton's house, my boots were muddied, my feet wet, and the bottom 8 inches of my jeans sand-encrusted and sodden. I borrowed rubber bands and balled up the pant-hems so I wouldn't ruin their floors, then cozied my feet to the fire. Over dinner, we got the upcoming semester sorted out: cooking schedule, leaflets, all that stuff. Then Mrs. Crampton brought out a beautiful copy of the Books of Job, Ecclesiastes, Psalms, and Song of Solomon. From the early 1700s. A paraphrasing with, I believe, the King James text, and interpretations of each line interpolated (like Blake or translations of Chaucer). We had rather irreverent fun lisping an F sound for all the printed seraphs.

You know what I love about real houses? Fireplaces, bookshelves, kitchen tables, water pressure, doorbells, dark wood floors, and mailboxes.