We are hosting our nieces this weekend. They are 12 and 10, so our dinner last night was chicken fingers and french fries; I made a special trip to the corner store for ketchup, since the decree went forth to all corners of the realm that fries would under no circumstances be consumed if not accompanied by lots and lots of ketchup.
I went in to work yesterday to make up some hours, so they went out looking for xmas trees without me. We’ve gotten by for ten years with a two-foot tall munchkin but with our new, grand windows, we decided it was time to upgrade to something a little bigger — after all, the little thing was more ornament than tree.
They found an artificial, pre-lit tree, set it up, and decorated it as evening fell. I could see the tree shining in the living room window from the lightrail as I came home.
I woke up this morning to the first snowfall. I turned on the tree and brewed some coffee. From my study window, I look out over a small city park. I can see people bundled, walking their dogs, who frisk and caper in the snow. All the trees and powerlines are still accented with thick white lines. The boundary between earth and sky is blurred. The eye, with nothing distinct to rest on, falls upward into the clouds.