_       _ Out back. Behind the house. A place for the lawn mower or long planks you might need some day. A place to cool off, the ratty old recliner letting you sink in. Your magazines swell and throw spores from turned pages. Put in a little stove and you can ride out the winter want-tos. In some, things have been done that God should have prevented. Some have saved marriages. Small mammals sleep in their underpinnings and black snakes hunt their reserves. I have seen their tin roofs catch light and become radiantly blank the way the sun erases the figures from the panels of an altarpiece every day at a certain time.