The After-Thanksgiving [E+C Blog] Special

When you grow up in a different time zone than your cousins and grandparents, attend a college that's a 21-hour drive from your home town, watch your sisters settle down in three separate states, marry someone from a state that makes hot dishes instead of casseroles requires a plane ticket home, and spend more time interacting via technology than you do face-to-face, you learn that distance does not always dampen a relationship.

In fact, living with family spread across the country has its advantages. Most recently, I've discovered that it provides us unique opportunities to gather together in unusual combinations of "mico-families." Just this last weekend I had lunch at the airport with my grandma from South Dakota, my Minnesota-based aunt, and my uncle from South Dakota and his daughter - but not her siblings. We were all missing people from our immediate family unit, and I'm sure the thought crossed all of our minds that we'll likely never be together with that specific group of people again. But it was fun, and I'm grateful for long layovers and that my family takes advantage of these little opportunities to stay connected.

Notes from C: November 2013

It's been a while since I've made a post inspired by the little notebook I carry around with me. I think I'm rather seasonal in my creativity and thinking and am drawn to these types of ponderings in the colder months. And colder it is, at least here in Minnesota. Saturday morning at 8am Evan and I, along with his sister and brother-in-law, were at the starting line to our Turkey Trot ... with temperatures just reaching 4 degrees. Lesson learned: if you only wear one layer of winter running tights you will be nursing your numb legs back to health for a good half day. Also, chicken noodle soup is a necessary post-race treat.

As I was saying, the change of seasons feeds my creativity, and fall is the start of my new creative year. To be more precise, it's actually the weeks that follow those colorful peak days that are my favorite of all. Yup, call me weird, but I like to watch the colors gradually fade, when the textures and patterns of tree branches become the main attraction, and the entire landscape settles into one of muddied, muted tones, contrast and mystery. Give me a quiet, chilly scene and top it off with a vibrant sunset that only November can produce and my mind is more alive than on a sunny day in July. Only when it gets cooler and the world begins to turn inward do I have access to those scenes and thoughts.

This time of fall makes me want to be a painter, so I can capture every blurry smudge of color, the long brush strokes of branches, the texture. It's past the peak, the "show" is over, but life continues on. Trees don't wear life solely in their branches; their life is within, calm, steadfast, determined ... resilient. I think this is why I love the coming of winter. It strips away your "accessories" and shows who you truly are. There is less of life around, but the life that remains is persistent and true.

Wouldn't it be nice if we saw aging like this too? Where "past-your-peak beauty" was more striking than prime-time youthful beauty? Wrinkles are just life's way of adding more contrast, texture, shadows ... I'll try and remember that.