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Fifty-Four
Jun. 18th, 2013 11:34 pmThe sun blazing overhead is quite a present comfort as we arrive at the hermitage. The place is quite a bit bigger and more elaborate than I'd expected, but just as rustic. There's a sprawling lodge or cabin and a couple of outbuildings, a barn with aspirations of being a carriage house and a wood shed.
"Is it just Father Toma here?" I ask Bel. "No novices, no assistants?"
"
"I don't believe at the moment," she says. "Sometimes pilgrims stay, but mostly I think it's big because he's always building onto it. There's something holy in labor."
"Let's hope his more recent labors have been as holy," I say. "Where'd he get his water from before, I wonder? I can't imagine he hauled it from town. Topography's wrong for a creek..."
We find a well in back of the shed. It's a smaller, ruder affair than the one in town. There's a leather satchel on a rope to serve as a bucket. There's water in the well, but the leather is bone dry.
"Is it just Father Toma here?" I ask Bel. "No novices, no assistants?"
"
"I don't believe at the moment," she says. "Sometimes pilgrims stay, but mostly I think it's big because he's always building onto it. There's something holy in labor."
"Let's hope his more recent labors have been as holy," I say. "Where'd he get his water from before, I wonder? I can't imagine he hauled it from town. Topography's wrong for a creek..."
We find a well in back of the shed. It's a smaller, ruder affair than the one in town. There's a leather satchel on a rope to serve as a bucket. There's water in the well, but the leather is bone dry.