south georgia christmas

highlights:

the ice on the trees (on EVERYTHING) in southern iowa —>

stepping out of the house at gramma’s first thing after gettting off the road…the stars and the smell of pecans and country soil

falling asleep on my feather bed looking up at my 14-year-old-self’s ceiling of glow in the dark stars, and surrounded by my many unicorns. i’ve always loved the fantastic.

mom constantly threatening (believe me, it’s not an empty threat) to “pinch stevie’s hiney”. steve is my oldest sister’s husband. that’s weird, right?

convertable rides in mom’s cabrio on christmas eve ———————>

mrs. marilyn’s sweet tea and the smell of the tea olive trees in her yard

<—- the ridiculous extent to which my mom and stepdad spoil their new-ish dog, prissa. (or priscetta, as my mother calls her)

walking around the downtown square complete with christmas carols playing and a wonderfully eccentric woman who took photos for us and showed us her long-johns

christmas breakfast on the porch at gramma’s in short sleeves

a long walk….and a long nap

the 16-layer cake gramma kept hidden so she could ration it out

walking home under the bright south georgia stars through fields and ponds and wonderful sounds and smells. i love the farm…

HAVEN’T SEEN ENOUGH?

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lenticular?

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Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.
-Kahlil Gibran

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