December, suddenly.

Walking home from the wine shop.
Christmas time in my neighborhood.  

-- In Crescent Hill -- Top: This is James Fruit Market, where we always buy our Christmas tree. It's only a block from our house, so Kurt usually hoists the tree onto his shoulders and walks it home. I pass by often on my way to the gym, and the Balsams and Fraziers smell like heaven. The shop worker confided that he took the part-time job because he misses Oregon, and the smell of conifers feels like home. Bottom: This is what a chilly walk home from the Wine Rack looks like. 

A four ton Christmas Tree. #louisville #christmastime
I like to leave tiny presents for strangers to find.
Christmas time in my work's neighborhood. 

-- Downtown -- Top: Our city's Christmas tree, smack dab in the middle of Fourth Street.
Bottom: If you discovered a chocolate on a lamp post downtown, would you eat it? (My answer is yes, by the way.) Sometimes, I leave surprises around town for people to discover. Sometimes, I sit on a park bench and watch men in suits claim chocolates on lamp posts. 

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Feathery things.
Christmas time at home. 

-- At home -- Tops: Juniper branches in an Erlenmeyer flask. Bottom: Feathery things. (Both birthday gifts given separately from two friends who do not know each other, Cathy and Megen. Clearly, my love for feathery things is loud and clear.)

Untitled He just needs a smoking jacket.

-- And some ramblings about dogs, because you know what you signed up for when you chose to read this blog. -- Top: There's the tiniest ray on sunshine reflecting through the window, and they've agreed to share it. Bottoms: Harold has been nestled next to the space heater for nearly a month. His nose even got chapped from prolonged exposure to ambient heat. He stands awkwardly near the vent and bows his head in heat worship, so that the air blows directly into his face. He'd curl up on a bonfire if we'd let him.


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