River Road Feather Braid

We snowshoe into the backcountry and saw down our Christmas tree at 11,000 feet.

Now it stands by the doorway decked out in lights, golden garland, candy canes, and so many colored balls. At the tops sits the star he made out of cardboard and aluminum foil.

Raffi is singing Christmas songs, Hanna is sleeping by my legs, Wilson is dozing in the crook of my arm.



I crack two eggs into a pot and fry them, place half of a gluten free bagel in the toaster oven and turn it on.

Everything is going well until it is time to flip them. There's not enough room in the pot, so instead of flipping them like pancakes from one side to the other, I must mush them into a jumbled mess in order to cook both sides. The trouble is that I did not feel like washing the frying pan, so I tried to cook two fried eggs in a small sauce pot.

While the eggs finish cooking I put on the water to brew dandelion root tea.



Today it was freakishly warm, to the point that I pulled off my coat while I was walking Hanna and on the phone with my dear, dear friend (for lack of a better word) and I tied the coat sleeves around my waist so that I was wearing nothing but jeans and a sweater.

Meanwhile last week was so cold that every day I wore two pairs of pants, long underwear beneath a wool sweater, a down parka, gloves, a scarf, and my bright red beanie from the tree farm.

I am so sick of this basement apartment with the fighting always overhead. I wouldn't mind living in the poolhouse.