I was in my homeland of New Hampshire over New Year's and for whatever reason, "transitioning" back has been difficult!
I hadn't been home in a year and half so maybe that made everything and everybody seem extra precious: the ocean, the Christmas lights, the snow.
Sunday afternoon, January 3, I walked around Strawbery Banke in Portsmouth. I always seem to find myself at least once when I'm home creeping past the old Portsmouth Hospital (now I think police HQ) where I was born. The wreaths and garlands and lights on the graceful old Colonial homes, and the bay as a backdrop, were lovely.
On a quiet side road, I became entranced with the way the afternoon light showcased the above branch of dried flowers (or maybe it was "just" a weed).
Then there were these dear animal prints and stray solitary grasses erupting through the ice-glossed snow.
A hush fell--and then a Squirrel came through.