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winter is worth a word-laden Wednesday

I used to live in a place where, when it snowed, it was such an event that everyone took photographs of their snowy houses to be used as photo Christmas cards for holidays yet to come. I remember the year that Melanie lived in Savannah, the long drives there and back, the way I-16 loves it when you drive along it and sing in your empty car, my first sight of cotton fields. One of the only things I can appreciate about snow (besides the fact that I seem to have learned about custom white balances at long last) is when there is just a little bit of it and it collects on the tips of the dormant bushes and reminds me, however obliquely, of Georgia and cotton plants once again.

Spinach salad with tomatoes, red onion, blue cheese, pomegranate arils, and walnuts, to come.

in another country from the one where Wordless Wednesday lives

I almost took a picture of all my bronchitis medications for you. They have been the scenery of my life lately. Instead, the coughing quieted down and the temperatures shot up and I put on my shoes and went out into the world. Tomorrow it will be just above freezing and so today is not to be wasted.

I love lurid old movie posters, the colors and the typography and the artwork. I put a whole bunch of these in the mail today.

I found an abandoned nest on my walk down to main street. I also saw a For Sale sign for a six bedroom, five bath house. Hm.

Here we see the elusive Canadian Unicorn, the tree whose leaves turn brown but continue to hide the tree-branch skeleton until the bitter end. I wish there were more of these. Naked trees are hard on my heart.

What do you think are the chances of me talking Myron into paying legal tender to sit in a theater and listen to a small child screech “Where Is Love”? Astronomical.

 

I loved this boy’s shoes. Usually I ask permission before taking someone’s photo, but this time I just did it. He was asleep, so I don’t think he minded.

I went to Yarn Forward and bought a bunch of Noro to make myself one of these scarves to help me get excited about winter. Heather, I don’t suppose it’s too early to put in an order for a girl? I would love to make something feminine and squishy out of one of these and Manos del Uruguay is a favorite of mine.

I went to the gorgeous new Serious Cheese store, and picked up a handful of cheeses along with jam and kalamata/lemon tapenade from Grace in the Kitchen. Jamie, the mind behind Serious Cheese, previously created pairings with Michael’s Dolce jams, which are favorites of mine. (Heather, one of these applesauce-like feats of fruit genius is on its way to you as I type this. Well, not really, since it’s almost 7 at night.)

Michael has released a new jam—plum and star anise—and Jamie created a new pairing on the spot. Old Goat Gouda, you have met your match. And I was there to see it happen, and to taste it, too. Magic, I tell you.

And then my battery died. And the coughing came back with a vengeance. But I came home with a full backpack and a shoulder bag, too—with all of this and wine and bread and a sandwich for my bachelorette night dinner. So I know the post is late, but it is full of happy things, and worth every minute it took for me to make it for you.

somewhat wordless Wednesday

Monday it was too gorgeous to stay inside. I threw on a sweater and headed out to Dow’s Lake.

The trees aren’t changing much yet, but I sat by the water and thought and wrote and thought. I made sense out of the senseless.

I sat in a garden and wrote and thought some more. I appreciated the sun. The day warmed up and I regretted choosing the sweater and then gave in and sweated.

The bright pink ones are eye-catching, especially against the purple whatever-that-is-that-isn’t-lavender, but I liked the patches like these best. Everything’s fading now. Even the sunsets are quiet and dim, as if there’s no energy left at six-thirty to put on a show.

Unlike the sun and the seasons and little pink flowers, I can tell myself to cheer up.

A long stroll through an old neighborhood becoming new, an early dinner, a glass of wine. Just enough to send me home with my notebook and good memories.