The view from my office window. After our move, I’ve exchanged a vast office in the basement of our old house, a place always gloomy except under wings of neons hung over illuminated spots here and there, for a small upstairs room from which I can stand guard over the roof of our house—and admire the Lake Wolverine across the way.
Indeed this house is marked by ample and always glorious light, especially on a frozen morning like today. The basement here is of a narrow and humble kind; and my neons now blaze their lights over those of our plants that don’t fit into the house during the grueling season of sub-zero weather.
When it comes to offices, I tend to choose space over light—but it is rather a pleasure, here, to have both.