Here is the couch I purchased in Massachusetts:
It's red and there are small flowers all over it that have blue centers, and it's worn but not by me. I'm afraid that the upholstery is going to wear through before I can afford to fix it. I'd like to get to wing-back chairs to go along with it, but Ian maintains that they are uncomfortable.
We've been driving a lot lately. I think that it feels weird to be off the road, but also there's just so much here that we've never seen before. We try to take the small state routes--the freeways are almost entirely toll roads here, anyway--that take us through the countryside, past colonial houses and farm estates. I see so much that I want to stop at--thrift stores, family-run farms, The Big Dipper lobster shack--and begin to feel slightly overwhelmed before I realize that the thrift store on the way to Maine probably isn't going out of business just yet, that I'll be here a while. And then I feel a bit more overwhelmed about that. Two years is a lifetime. Ian's unborn niece will be a toddler before we can even possibly move home.
I'm waiting for the weather to turn, and for fall to come. Summer's been over for me for a few weeks now, but this weather keeps holding on. I settle better during the fall, when it's not too hot to can apple butter, to make pickles and bread, to bake pies and drink tea, to do homework and write papers. Fall is a better season for changes like this.