choplogik

It was Christmastime. All the necessary voodoo dolls were hung on the tree with care. We would summon the Dread Lord a'an-t.





Even Bucky was swept up in the Yuletide spirit!



It was cold as always, but magically warmed up during our stay. An odd year, but one that was easy to get along with.

As it would melt & snow & remelt, the tree-lined valley oscillated between whites, greens & purples on a daily basis.



There was still a bit of snow, here & there.


I always liked to pretend I lived in Moominvalley. I was Snufkin, of course, and tromped around in my pastoral freedom. If I encountered a neighboring house, it was surely inhabited by a fillyjonk shut up for the winter, and one must always tread quietly past a fillyjonk's home.

I would smoke my imaginary Snufkin pipe and wander & ponder & wonder.



You never can run out of magic up there.

The local wildlife tends to be insufferably shy when it comes to taking their picture, insisting their makeup is a mess and they're wearing the wrong coat entirely, so you'll have to make do with this DRAMATIC REENACTMENT


Every day was beautiful, magnified by the wonderful group of friends & family I've collected up there. One of the most soul-satisfying Christmases. (Christmasses? Christmasii?)

Thanks for reminiscing with me!