We have a really nice grocery store nearby. Shopping there is a 4-6 times per year treat, and when I go, I come home loaded with all sorts of frivolous and delightful things. It’s so much fun to poke around.
They are johnny-on-the-spot with mushrooms in season. Today there was a huge display of chanterelles, but they had a dozen other kinds, too. I didn’t even note what these are called.
These are the largest chestnuts I’ve ever seen. Imported from Korea. I bought some–will roast them tomorrow. Tonight we feasted on smoked black cod, bresaola, culture butter, sourdough bread, and very tiny olives.
Coming from the midwest, where a grocery store will maybe have some live lobsters, it’s fun to see tanks full of live seafood like this. The fact is, though, we can and do pull all these things from local beaches for free. So, eh. Wave and move on.
I spent my college years well, insofar as I spent a lot of random mornings/afternoons/nights roaming libraries and stumbling over important books. I’d take them home or–more usual–camp out right there in the library and read them cover to cover.
I couldn’t quite read The Golden Bough cover to cover in one sitting, but I read enough. Enough to learn that there are ways the human brain is wired to behave that have nothing to do with reality. Enough to learn that while science and logic are peachy, there are nonsensical things we do to soothe ourselves, and that those things are so prevalent in cultures around the world that we might as well call them universal.
So. Here is my little girl, largely innocent of history and folklore, scattering flower petals into a puddle. This is a particular puddle: the “Gateway to the Underworld.” The underworld is a place where everything is the same as it is up here, but upside down.
Anyway. Votive offerings. 100% instinctual. Nice.
… Did you know that in the Pacific Northwest, it rains? A lot?
Only in the winter. Okay, and in the fall and spring. Summers are bone-dry and by mid-July there’s usually a burn ban, the fire risk is so bad.
But in the cooler seasons, it rains, and even the sandy ground becomes saturated. Walks around our property are punctuated by squish-squish-squishing. Rubber boots are a must.
I usually wait until December to put up the tree, but c’mon. Has November sucked or has November sucked? We needed it. And this year, Pookie took the wheel. It took her all day–and she couldn’t reach the topmost 18″ of tree, even on a stepstool–but she decorated it. (and I may or may not have surreptitiously rearranged. I admit, it was a struggle to cede control of this project.)
This is the nine-foot tree we bought to go in the vaulted living room of our old house. Yes, we did snip off the top to fit in our library here.
A ferry across the Sound, through the city, to our relatives’ house, for a Thanksgiving full of booze, laughter, and seriously good food. Everyone was very happy.
And home again on a sunny day with a seriously awesome view of the Olympics.
Because they’re made of leftovers, harr harr. I love these stripey socks. So basic. So honest. And totally used up the leftovers from three other pairs.
I finished my winter village. This was made from a DCWV kit that came packaged like a book of scrapbook paper. Minimal instructions; just punch out pieces, fold, and glue while keeping half an eye on the cover picture. I bought it at Michael’s Crafts.
This is my happy place right now. Everyone here gets along.