Sunset

visiting my childhood home, my father's home now. getting the boy ready for bed up in one of our old rooms, the sun pouring an orange rectangle onto the wall. the crabapple branches offered it the shape of webs; criss-crossing, swaying, gray webs in the peach light. ancient cobwebs never dusted down, fallen into each other, no distinguishable pattern. dancing, just as they are.

Glorious Day

Solstice

warm day with family.

8 inches of snow from a couple of days ago. 10 more inches have fallen today with a possibility of 10 more tonight.

happy solstice.

Home-Cooked Bath Toys

new uses for old jeans! i've been wanting more non-toxic bath toys to complement our collection of wooden goodies from the unfinished mill store that have served us thus far. today, i added this "family" (with spoon, of course - the current favorite toy) to the collection.

Boo's Basket

working on a basket made with pine needles i collected with my aunt boo last year, as she moved toward her death from dementia. we walked together along with her husband, ben, through long-leaf pine woods in florida. she saw me gathering the needles, and she joyfully began gathering them, too, though she didn't understand what i meant them for. at home that evening, toward the end of my visit with them, i invited her to help me take each needle out of the jumble of needles and lay them out straight, so they'd travel safely on the plane without getting broken. she sat beside me at their little kitchen table, and, though the disease had stripped her of her language, much of her reasoning, her memory, and the ability to simply work on most things competently, she understood what i was doing with the needles. we worked together, silently, while ben watched the news, her hands and mine taking turns as we slowly untangled the web of needles and, one by one, laid them in order.

boo passed over october of last year. finally, now, i'm weaving these needles together into our basket.

Thanksgiving

morning train ride to the city south of us. boy toddled up and down our car, smiling at every person on it, receiving smiles and conversation in exchange. at long last, napped in my arms, the rising sun flickering through the trees onto his face, the side of his hand.

so much of the journey was through wild land. quiet streams winding through the woods, bare branches webbing the sky. water lying still, frozen in its place, holding the sun's light on the earth.

we traveled behind the factories, the ugly places: laundromats, self-storage, their dumpsters and heating vents. occasionally, a glimpse of the wealthy - a house on a hill above the tracks, a row of neat victorians a few blocks away.

so few people out, towns nearly vacant, roads empty. one lonely car at the railroad crossing waiting for us to pass. storefronts all closed and quiet. just the rattle of the train on its tracks, the conductor's jarring announcements of stations, the passing trees.

Cranberry Pole Beans

our cranberry pole beans being shelled by my mum during her most recent visit here.