Tuesday, November 29, 2011


The girls and I are still in St. Louis with my parents, hanging out in front of the fireplace, drinking "warm hot chocolate" (according to Lena), and vegging. I'm working desperately to use the time to catch up on months of unfiled, unedited photos, and emails, and newsletters, and phonecalls. I need to work, to get some more illustrations done, to write our Christmas letter. But mostly I've been drinking too much coffee and reading some embarrassingly light novels. It's been awfully nice.

I don't believe, when I was growing up here, that I really appreciated November in Missouri. It is so cold, and the trees are almost completely bare, only a few brown or golden leaves left on two or three varieties of trees that I wish I knew the names of (although I'm sure the oak trees are partly to blame - I remember the tall oak in our old front yard used to hang on to matte-brown leaves until the snow was thawing in the spring).

There isn't any snow to warrant the cold, really, in my opinion. But I miss those deciduous trees so much, now, that even in November I find them fascinatingly beautiful. I tried to get some photos today, but had to settle for shooting through the window of a moving car. Maybe tomorrow I'll get the shot I want: golden fields cradled by perfectly curved hills, the hills rimmed with the dark misty gray lace of thick barren trees against a silver white sky. I can't imagine I'll do them justice.

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