Spokane. A city on hills. Our home for the next two months. I'm settled in, my office is set up, and the writing goes well. Each morning I work from about 6:30 to about 8 in the morning, and then the day begins, filled with the commonplaces that I hestiate to write about. Except that yesterday we began walking again. Spokane is hilly. We live perched on the lower side of Hatch Hill, and the view above is the view out our front door. Spokane, I learned, was settled by Protestants in the late 1800s), and its name comes from the Native American word Spokan (Sun People), as indigenous peoples favored the falls here to fish for salmon and had done so for thousands of years.

Yesterday we passed old mansions, I'll learn more about them in time, and I didn't bring my camera. I also wondered about how to keep the blog current when not much happens in everyday life. Yet this is where we truly live, in the ordinary. We bought a loaf of home-made fresh rosemary/garlic bread from the Perry Street Farmer's Market, a tiny farmer's market of about 10 booths open only on Thursdays from 8 am until 2 pm. Rachel introduced me to Value Village, an immense and unique kind of recycling store that carries everything at Salvation Army prices. I found a night light, a whimsical teapot made of delicate china and decorated with flowers for 99 cents, something to banish shadows.

Last night, a friend called from Portland to protest the violence in Zimbabwe. The election frenzy seems quieter now, with vice presidential recruiting going on behind the scenes. These seem far from Spokane Valley, far from Portland or Seattle, though I notice a slight inferiority complex in the local newspaper as an article now and then will tout "Just as good as Portland"! We may go to the downtown library today and see the very full Spokane Falls. And this time I will take my camera. For now, here's a pic of my new office, a little sparse but with a view of the valley stretching out, a sight as restoring as simply being here.