Where do you start?
I've already talked about my trips to Wheeling on the way to Maryland. I found some pictures of my last trip there, which was about 4 years ago. I've mentioned how the status of Wheeling Island seemed to be fluxuating, being a small copse in the middle of the Ohio river at the western border of West Virginia that struggles to keep its head above water, literally. It floods there sometimes.
Against the prevailing humidities, floods, and economics, the island beats back the clock's ravages.
In the instance of this vine-covered "more-than-cottage," questions are posed. (A Larger Question is raised, it seems to me. )
How did this thing get away from them?
Was there a start underway to remove the excess vinage? Was the dwelling abandoned? Recently reclaimed? Was there a fight going on between a husband and wife over the charm or non-charm of thick vines? An ensuing divorce over that? Did the worker fall off a ladder after clearing the top three-quarters of the edge? Is this as far as he got? Did he quit?
Such manifestations, though not quite as pronounced, are rife on the island. It is a churning vortex of real estate loss and reclamation. A battle for time. Leaning arbors support fantastical flowers. There exist boutiques for "bow-wows." Flamingoes vie with St. Francis for rights to front yards. Cats roam untethered. Bath-robes are worn outside, pre-dress, in the morning.
My camera unobscura flicked at many things. A book could be written, or has been, or is being. My thoughts were curtailed each time on Wheeling Island, for my stay-overs were for one night only. I had Another Purpose.
But isn't wonderful what we can see with our peripheral vision?
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