I visit the church of the incarnation for a break when I remember. It is warm in the winter and the smell of wood polish, dusty fabric cushions, the dim lighting combine to sooth the most feverish day.
Ever since I read that trees prefer to live in families, I have been looking at old woodwork differently. The quality of the wood comes not just from the species, size or age of the harvested tree, but from the community of living beings that supported its growth. Right? I think so.