I. Lodging A neighborhood of vinyl-clad double-wides; a crop-dusting prop plane sweeps corn and soy.  A woman walks by and asks if I own the home.  She’s from farm country too—a lush rolling plain of corn fields that smell sweet in late summer.  Rootless transplants from Philadelphia, Wilmington, Jersey, and Dover have settled this driftwood spit.  We both come from… Read more →