Welcome Home

"A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.

I live in a small studio that I cannot not pay for, except with love, wit and chores.

I live under a wild grape vineyard that feeds me in the autumn and old willow trees that shade out my planter box full of invasive species and natives like the United Nations in session: Pink Lady's Pepper Thumb, Japanese Stiltgrass, Japanese Knotweed, Yellow Wood Sorrel, Goldenrod and Wild Carrot. Each nation has its own agenda in competition with each other under the blanket of shade. It's hard for them to live together.

I live by a parking lot where there was once an anodizing plant. Their production likely resulted in chemicals trickling down the slope into the soil and the creek below. Today, the building is empty with broken windows and what I suspect are superfund sites. It keeps the rent low and the neighborhood's diversity up.

This is a low-income part of town. I don't say "poor" because the neighbors aren't poor, but neither are they rich like the folks in Bedford Hills. The deer, raccoons, foxes, brown bats, chimney swifts, snapping turtles and box turtles have what they need, and the people living in the buildings have a quiet, safe place to live. My neighbor often invites me over for tea, and the neighbor above her, recovering from palsy, comes down to join us sometimes. The new neighbor is an artist who wanted to work for National Geographic as a staff photographer, but she was turned away because someone else could do it cheaper. The other neighbors have loved ones working at military bases or overseas in Iraq , and are staying home with their kids waiting for their return.

I live in a small city where art and antiques are the big draw for weekend rich people from New York City , and the hiking trails and shops draw the rest during the spring and summer.

I live with toxins from the air I breathe and water I drink.

Often, in the abstract, and in the physical world, I wonder if I actually live in my home, or if I'm just a guest. If I live here, that means I'm fully responsible for what happens here. If I'm a guest, then I am not responsible. Then I ask: "To whom do I pay my rent (gratitude)?"

From here on, I'll be bringing in articles, people and research that will help you answer the question for yourself as best you can.