We have not been to Alexandria since the hurricane, so we decided to have lunch in town. We always seem to have luck finding a spot for the car, and we parked right in front of George Washington's townhouse on one of our favorite streets. In the second floor window of the townhouse was an Indian and a pumpkin surrounded by lights that I'm sure shined brilliantly in the evening. But what caught my eye even more was a tree that seemed to disappear in front of the house behind it. The bark was flaking away, but so was the paint on the house. The house and tree seemed to be in perfect sync with each other, except for the few colorful leaves that remained attached to the spidery web branches. Perhaps one of these days the house will be repainted, but that could never happen to the tree. There was something charming about it. My husband told me he never would have noticed it if I had not brought it to his attention. And then he wondered how much he's missed all these years. I didn't think he missed much. That's the difference between a visual person like myself, and a literary person like him. And so goes the tree against the house. And luckily for him, I always point it out.
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