It's white as snow here in the south. And I don't just mean the neighbors. This week we got blanketed with frozen precipitation. Blanketed with tiny flakes that mounted together in battle to not only take down any hopes we had of after Christmas sales shopping, but also to take down the small red tip tree in the back. The little tree whose sister we had to cut down when no leaves had grown back by the middle of spring and we finally admitted it was indeed dead. The little tree who was covered in poison oak when we moved in and which subsequently gave my husband a swollen angry rash. Oh well, such is life I guess. I actually never really cared for that tree other than the privacy it gave us from the neighbor woman we believe may be a real life cougar. Once we cut down the little tree's dead twin, it looked strange. Hanging crookedly over the yard like a broken marionette. Oh well, such is life again.
We've been stuck in the house for days. I just changed from pajamas for the first time since Christmas Eve. It feels good. I've ventured outside a bit to take pictures and play with the dog, shielding my eyes from the foreign sun with my hand. I feel as dramatic as that sounds, like I've been trapped away from the warmth for weeks, like I never thought I'd see light again, like a Chilean miner. Yeah yeah, I know. The boredom has wrecked my sense of humor.
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