I write today's communication from a beautiful old stone library on the North Fork of Long Island. And I'm tired in that good physical way from putting up a tongue-and-groove ceiling with my dad this afternoon. Sitting here with the glow of the lamps on the shelves of books & feeling the satisfaction of having made something happen with my hands. This "honest labor" has been the story of my summer this year, as I've spent most of it renovating a small cottage by the shore that I still can't quite believe I own. The season is winding down, & the cold weather a persistent guest rather than weekend visitor, so it's a good time to thank my parents for all the amazing help they've given me--they're the best.