There is a little house in the woods — a hut I should say — no bigger than an ice fisherman’s shack. A door, two windows, two shelves, a bed, books, computer, shirts and socks, lamp and tooth brush. This is the house of good notions.
When the rain finally poured in the late afternoon, the windows were let down to about two inches above the sill, the door set ajar to pull in the fresh air.
After the rain, the sills were wiped down and the windows were opened. The door was swung back to let in the Western light.
A house of good notions is small, quiet, clean and dry,
easy to tend to, easy to sleep in.