These days Arden and I are reading about the incomprehensible devastation that was Gettysburg. The Wheat Field, the Peach Orchard, Devil's Den: all unimaginable. Lines of men marching (men like us) under the bronze July skies, across open fields, to fall en-masse, and die alone. Arden glories in the generals, the battle maps, the strategy, the heroes.
Kara and I are reading Good Wives. Arden can't help himself: he listens too. Thus far Good Wives is all sweetness and joy. Domestic bliss, noble poverty, and twins. Today Jo winced and groaned as she dressed to go calling. She was altogether too much like Kara herself, preparing for church. I enjoyed the scene just a bit too much.
In my rare moments of domestic bliss, I am working on a pair of socks for Kara. I just finished the first sock tonight. My handmade knitting basket will join me in the quiet moments for a couple more weeks. A finished sock provides a wonderful sense of satisfaction.
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