The Sieve And Crockery Jar
Turning to the left, Esmé’s “ Cumorah” painting looks down on our bed from the west wall, with the main furnace duct above. OK in cold weather; sometimes a problem when it got warm. The duct, not the painting.

And to the right (eastward, via something like an about-face), behind the sofa, the ice-boxes. Not refrigerators, but ice-boxes. The door at left marked the north end of the corridor behind the ice-boxes. The ice-man, having come(th?) through which in earlier times, would leave blocks of (you guessed it) ice in each, from behind. We stored there mainly little jugs of fruit-flavored syrup which we’d dilute (with bottled water: the pipes in the Back Bay ran nasty) into the nearest equivalent to soft drinks that we could afford.
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