Notes on seasons, long walks, and the quiet satisfaction of fixing something instead of replacing it. Updated whenever there is something worth writing down, which is not often.
Two seasons of meaning to and one afternoon of actually doing it. The joinery is not beautiful up close, but it holds a person, and it will hold the next one too. There is a lesson in how much of the delay was thinking rather than doing.
Reversing a familiar loop makes it unfamiliar again. The hill you always climb becomes the hill you always descend, and the whole middle stretch turns into somewhere you have never quite been. Cheapest trick I know for making an ordinary evening feel new.
The list is never empty and that turns out to be the point. A house with nothing to fix is a house nobody is living in. I have stopped treating the list as a backlog and started treating it as a sign of occupancy.
Anyone who has worked outdoors learns to read a sky before they learn to read a forecast. The forecast is usually right and the sky is usually sooner. Both are worth having.
This is a personal site. Nothing here is for sale, there is no mailing list, and there are no comments to moderate.