Plain Sight will take a breather as I head to Portland, Maine for a family wedding and a few days of R&R. Back Wednesday, Sept. 2. Meanwhile, a few vacationy images...

I have a series of pictures I call "Souls Have Shapes." The title comes from the first stanza of a poem, "My Sisters," by Stanley Kunitz:

Who whispered, souls have shapes?/ So does the wind, I say./ But I don't know,/ I only feel things blow.

Late afternoon sun does something even for entrances not ready for their closeup...

When you’ve got a growing belly and a shrinking wallet, where to find chic maternity clothes?

Yesterday's late afternoon sun begged to be beheld and basked in, and on St. Patrick's Day what better place than by a bright green door?

Talk about a windshield filler. Such is the view from the driver's seat as I sat behind a dump truck at a red light in West Orange.

We spend months — and often thousands of dollars — selecting and perfecting our wedding dress. What a shame that we only wear it once.  NOT.

In 2005, my father, Mel Levin, who was suffering from Alzheimer's, fell while walking with my mother, Roz, in their West Orange neighborhood.

He was not seriously injured, but he spent the next several days in confusion and pain in a room in St. Barnabus Hospital in Livingston.

"Paula" posted a question about whether I am still on speaking terms with my next-door neighbor, who backed into me with his SUV while I was mowing my lawn on Sunday, sending me to the hospital in an ambulance with my neck in a brace.

How this freak accident happened I attempted to describe in Tuesday and Wednesday's Plain Sight.

The answer to Paula's question is...

The telephone poles were taller than the trees in the new West Orange neighborhood my family moved to in 1963.