My windowsill gallery is the first thing I see in the morning, the sun rises over the barn just behind it, I can tell from the windows – we don’t have storm windows yet – just how cold it is, where the sun is, what kind of a day it will be. This morning I saw a small burst of sunlight, then subsumed by the clouds. I saw that Maria had moved things around, a stone from a necklace, an old blue bottle, a rock from the path, she is a Pagan, she makes her own Stonehenge all of the time, I don’t know what it means, only how it feels.