Christmas

I went over to Carbondale for church this morning. It was nice. One of my eighth-grade English teachers, whom I had not seen in years, is the Second Reader over there.

On the way back to Herrin, I was driving across Crab Orchard Lake on Illinois 13 and saw a seagull gliding from the south side of the road to the north. It was really pretty.

My sister and her boyfriend are visiting his family this weekend, so their dogs are spending the weekend with my parents. I took their corgi out for a run around my parents’ property. He’s a good dog — very attentive on-leash. I hadn’t gone for a run in about a month, so we had a good time.

It was misty out, but not too cold. The sky was gray, but the rain had intensified the color of the grass and the tiny patch of moss we saw on the ground. I love moss. I love the texture — soft and spongy and nice to walk on barefoot — and I love how it looks like a zillion minuscule ferns, all bunched up together, when you look at it up close.

I think the thing I like best about it, though, is where it grows. Moss is a shade lover, so it brightens up dark places with its vivid green color. I wish I could replace my whole front yard with moss. 

My little brother is here now, and Mom is making some kind of dessert for us. I need to fill up the gas tank, and I think everybody would like for me to pick up some ice cream while I’m at the convenience store, so I’d better get offline.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re enjoying your Christmas.

Emily