Saturday, November 19, 2016


Grocery shopping the other week with Erin. In the produce department. A man working there was putting out leeks. I slowed down to get some things nearby and caught myself looking at the leeks. I thought on how it's been so long since I bought any. I use them in my baked potato soup--a comforting favorite topped with bacon and cheddar cheese.

I said out loud to the worker in a voice that was both eager and wanting, "You make those leeks look good!"

He turned to me and looked at me and smiled big. "I make these leeks look good?"

Oh. Good. Grief.

Flustered, I mumbled something and walked off.

Now it's the household joke.

Shane said just this morning, "I'm going to call your friend at the produce department and ask him to remind you to pick up cereal next time you're eyeballing leeks."

Shaking my head.


Erin and I sat outside Friday and finished the last of My Side of the Mountain, our November read aloud and literature. I felt myself tearing up a little on the next to last page--not because of anything in the reading, but because the book is almost over and last words are an end.

Erin tells me how she imagines the mountain journey unfolding in our own backyard. And I kind of agree, thinking of the pine grove across the creek and the steep climbs--of the hawks and owls we see and hear regularly.

I love that we live right here. I love what my kids are getting from this brush with nature. I love that their imaginations are fueled by a vivid reality, and that great stories unfold just steps away from us.


Yesterday--outside in mild temperatures, reading a book with Erin. Taken by the brushed wisps of clouds.

Today, bluster and gust growing, leaves tumbling and twirling. November's moody skies. And it's still warmer outside than it is inside the house.

I think I love November best.

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