It's been a busy week or so and I just wanted to post a few of the highlights. I headed out Christmas eve with stops at Hunters, met Amy in the mall parking lot then the Littlefields, then to Dan's where I snapped a few shots of Hayley and Erin's great artistry. Hayley won the gingerbread house making contest with a still life replica of the big house on the ranch--complete with swing, chickens picking Mom's flowers, the Christmas star and the satellite dish! Very good. PLUS, see Erin's first hand at artistry with a self portrait--it's almost as beautiful as she is! Then to Frank's for fun with the kids and watching little Ryan take his first steps. (Steve family was in Mexico on a cruise). Then to Ben's where they were all in the purple van headed to Sizzler for Christmas eve dinner with the Burr grandparents. Then on to Grace where everything was shrouded in fog and every branch and twig was completely covered in frost shards...beautiful! See the shot of the weeping willow in my yard. It...and all the other trees that were so outlined in the dark/light contrast made me think of Grandmother Clegg's favorite poem.
Wonderful to spend time with Dad and Mom. Dad went for a trike ride before the next storm hit. Christmas day with Kent's family. Church was great with the Christmas program as they had been snowed out the week before and postponed the program where Dad and Mom were both in the choir. Sunday evening all those that could met at Ben's for soup, singing and fun. Ben gave all his brothers and Dad "Rocket Engineering" hats (see model shots). I worked from home up there and last night, went to the hot pots with Kent & kids to top it off. Great holiday! Missed seeing Webbs but look forward to next time.
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. -- Joyce Kilmer
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