June 3, 2026

Good morning!

It’s Wednesday, and we’re still drifting through the post-graduation time-memory continuum on our way back to the present. It helps to be staying in a town with a long history to it, including a church bell cast by Paul Revere and homes that are so rich with stories both real and imagined, I keep having to stop and stare.

Like this one.

How many lives and lifetimes have passed through that door? How many eyes have looked out those windows—and is someone at this very minute gazing at us, wondering what the heck we’re doing and wishing we’d go away?

By standing here now, do we get to become part of that collective history too?

“Isn’t it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years.”

—Willa Cather

Onwards,

Clara