Actual Size

The Sunday Room is a film. Watch it with the sound on: averylanemaxwell.com/podcast

THE SUNDAY ROOM

No. 2
LET THE BEAUTIFUL THING STAY ITS ACTUAL SIZE

A baby pumpkin on the desk. A family ring with a row of very small diamonds. And a week of missed buses that kept putting Avery, somehow, exactly where he was supposed to be.

First, Denver.

Lunch with someone who has become important to the work. An afternoon beside an old letterpress born in 1933. A garden two new friends insisted he see before the light went.

Then, a few days later, another bus and another town.

Idaho Springs, a place Avery had driven past for years and never properly entered. A first walk through town. An afternoon in the warm water of the hot springs caves. Another reminder that some places do not need to become home in order to become part of you.

At the center of the room is Elias, from Met Before the Introduction.

Wooden letters resting backwards in their drawers. People who first saw him in the middle of an ordinary day, before the introduction had been prepared, and came back anyway.

Avery has spent much of his life making beautiful things larger.

A room becomes home.
A kindness becomes proof.
A friendship becomes a future.
A good afternoon begins carrying architectural plans before dinner.

This Sunday asks for something different.

Let the thing remain what it is.
Not smaller.
Accurate.

Because actual size does not mean insignificant.

A door is a door.
A wall is a wall.
A garden can simply make you happy.
A person can matter before you know what they will become.

And a beautiful thing does not have to promise forever in order to have been beautiful.

THE SUNDAY QUESTION

What beautiful thing in your life are you asking to become bigger than it needs to be?

Tell Avery the thing.
Then tell him its actual size.
One line is enough.

Write to avery@averylanemaxwell.com and tell him how you would like it held:

Keep this between us.
You may read this anonymously.
You may use my name.

Nothing becomes part of Galena House without permission.

FROM THE KITCHEN

Sunday Pumpkin Butter Toast.

Good bread, toasted properly.
Butter.
A thin layer of cream cheese.
Pumpkin with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a pinch of salt.
A moment under the broiler.
Coffee beside it.

That is enough.
The pumpkin does not need to become a pie.

FROM THE HOUSE

Thursday, October 22
six until seven thirty

Avery reads from Still, by Design. at the Collective, followed by a conversation about place and recovery, questions, and signing.

Free.

WATCH THE FILM

The Sunday Room is also a film.

Watch on YouTube or at:
averylanemaxwell.com/podcast

KEEP THE LAMP ON

Galena House is kept by the people who listen to it.

Twenty patrons at ten dollars a month keep the room.

The Patron Circle:
averylanemaxwell.com

⌂
Every episode and film:
averylanemaxwell.com/podcast
The letters:
averylanemaxwell.com/letters
The kitchen:
averylanemaxwell.com/kitchen

♫
The Galena House playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/55wkYr82P02Tsr4zgKZubw

A NOTE FROM THE HOUSE

This is a personal podcast.

Avery tells these stories as he remembers and understands them, from his own life and perspective.

When other people wander into them, he protects what belongs to them.

Good morning.

It is Sunday.

There is a pumpkin on my desk. An actual one, this time. A baby pumpkin, small enough to sit in the palm of my hand, beside the microphone, being very orange at me.