Southlanders can’t appreciate a perfect Michigan holiday: fourteen degrees, snowing, a bit of wind, and all stores closed. It’s an ideal excuse to stay home, pour hot coffee into one end, and wear wool coffee bean socks on the other. Lois made me the socks for Christmas. They’re dyed with black walnuts from our trees (the beans) and sumac bark from the yard (the background). Most everybody else got socks for Christmas, too, and the grandkids got possum books.
This morning, we had an omelet with eggs from a farm ten miles east, Edam cheese made twenty miles south, and chile sauce from New Mexico (thank you, Mom!).
The ice pictures actually are from a storm a week ago. Water must be the most beautiful form of destruction God ever invented.
Milkweed, according to the city, is a noxious plant. We keep them anyway. Monarch butterflies require milkweed. It’s the source of the poison that makes them inedible by frogs and birds. In the summertime, the milkweed around our door will be covered by butterflies.