A grey day today, kicked off by the sadness of putting Natalie on a train back to New York. She picked the train, mind you, though it was a good thing on this leg at least because it allowed us to send her recently refurbished bike and matching new helmet with her to help her get around Brooklyn.
It has been a slow couple of weeks, but good ones. After finishing up the book on the Caucasus, I made short work of Hernan Diaz's Trust, which I'm pretty sure Beth had given me last year. A nice solid book with a nifty twist, some but by no means all of which was foreseeable.
And now it is grey. The Christmas tree shines on here in the living room. It will no doubt be the last to go. After Natalie. After Graham. Most likely before MLKJ day, we will take her to the curb or down into the ravine out back where perhaps her needles will pester the large herd of deer that pass through every day, certainly in the morning, to drink from the creek out back and see what kind of goodies I tossed into our compost pile for their delectation.
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