Butterfly, Snow

I love butterfly bushes, especially the ones with deep-purple, almost black flowers. I had to move this one to a slope where it would get more sun, and I’m glad I did. I had a bad turn when the temperature plummeted, until I looked them up and realized they are, in fact, evergreens.

When the snow came, it decked the leaves in melting glitter, now mostly gone. It’s beautiful just the same. And spring is coming.

Love in Baking

When you’ve had a rough week, and your no-longer-a-teenager-this-year child knows it and uses her day off to clean the kitchen and make a pesto braid, because she wanted to try the recipe and she knows you love pesto…

…yeah, like that. Every bite was love.

I love my kids.


A certain Good Angel gifted me a tiny spare espresso machine, since my beloved Breville monster is down for the count. It’s been nice to pour a couple shots in the morning, and another few in the afternoon. French press just isn’t the same.

It’s an old Starbucks machine, and not for the faint of heart. I’ve already given him a name, and hopefully we’re at the beginning of a bee-you-ti-ful relationship.

Dialing Back

With the New Year, I’ve had to cut back on my language studies. I was doing Latin, French, Spanish, flirting with Greek, and attempting to hammer hangul into my head. It was eating up a lot of my time and frustrating me more than it should. I just don’t have the spare resources for all that and the other things I need to do. I’m going back to my first love, Latin. The others will keep until wanted again, as Jane Eyre wisely said.

My very last French lesson, however, was funny because this came up on the screen, and I said, “You get me, Duolingo. You really get me. It’s a shame we can’t go further.”

But no, I didn’t say it in French; I was too amused. Ah well.


The tree went up on the 23rd and down on the 26th; the dogs were excited as all get-out in the meantime. We passed a very quiet holiday with lots of food, and especially lots of sugar. And knitting!

I am a bit taken aback at how tired I’ve felt this season. Some years are like that–even though one has insulated oneself from toxic people, the echoes still linger in body and brain. Processing trauma isn’t a straight line, it’s more like a spiral. You arrive at the same place often, but your understanding of it deepens.

I hope your holiday was quiet and happy, my friends. See you in the New Year.