White, wood frame with the covered veranda. Here's a picture of their house as it was then. An avenue of packed dust and scattered stones that leads out past the edge of town to where the wide, keeling graveyard overlooks the ocean. Look down over the street where they lived. And spreading away from the collieries and coal heaps are the peaked roofs of the miners' houses built row on row by the coal company. Railway tracks that stretch only a short distance from the base of a gorgeous high slant of glinting coal, toward an archway in the earth where the tracks slope in and down and disappear. The silhouette of a colliery, iron tower against a slim pewter sky with cables and supports sloping at forty-five-degree angles to the ground. A small mining town near cutaway cliffs that curve over narrow rock beaches below, where the silver sea rolls and rolls, flattering the moon. Imagine you are looking down from the height of a church steeple, onto the vivid gradations of light and shadow that make the picture. Here's a picture of the town where they lived.
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