Wooden wreath

...bought years ago at the Ida Lee craft fair. It hangs on our front door every Christmas. 

A sunny day, clear and cold. The birds are feasting at the feeders hanging over the deck and from the plate of seeds below. The kitchen has been full of lovely winter light. Baked another batch of I.'s favorite Black Forest cookies, wrapped some presents, helped kids with homework, knit the first arm warmer for my cousin. Ignored bills and laundry. Neighbor Kenny (he of the renegade horses) brought over a dozen fresh eggs. Drank lots of tea to sooth a sore throat. 

A conversational excerpt:

me: I'm feeling a little blue.
son D: Why?
me: This is the last year I. will be here during Christmas preparations. Next year she'll just be coming home for Christmas, she won't be here already.
son: 
me: Did you hear?
son: grunt
me: Never mind.
son: Will she take all her furniture to college?