Finding the Tracks to the Past
Deb Powers was beginning to suspect she’d made her distractibility problem worse rather than better.
She currently sat in her back yard outside her basement office, under the shelter of her greatly expanded porch. What had been a postage stamp-sized concrete pad and tiny roof barely big enough to hold one chair and an umbrella now stretched a good fifteen feet to the right of her office door.
The new porch floor also stretched several feet further out into the yard, leaving plenty of room for an outdoor sectional couch, two chairs, and a porch swing, all fitted with cheery blue and green cushions.
She hated to admit it, but those cushions were deep and plush enough to be more comfortable than her sofa inside the office.
Right now, late in the Virginia mo
