Saturday, November 19, 2011


I feel so good, freshly returned from a lovely afternoon of contemplative shopping, tummy nicely filled with a simple dinner Vern made while I was out.  The kids haven't gone too wild (yet), pajamas donned (mostly), with teeth brushing and family scripture study straight ahead.

Today's foray produced groceries, some wonderful conversation with fellow fiber guild members at a local yarn shop, a precious quarter of an hour blissfully lost in the used classics section at the corner book store, and a general feeling of making solid progress in sinking roots into this community I love.  Hopefully I can blog more about it in the near future . . . there's so much I love here, and whether or not to openly blog about it has lain at stage left for a while now, coming and going, not fully settled.

Working across main at first street headed towards the van, snuggly familiarity settled itself in my chest; finding footing across the packed snow, breathing in crisp early winter, streetlights just beginning to come into their own.  I love the turn of the seasons, my expectations of each gradually fulfilled.  I guess that's what you call home . . . this gratification of memory renewed, the familiar and known replaying themselves in comforting sequence, but each time with the spark of life breathed in by those around me.

The children near fever pitch . . . and I must go . . .

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