I waited patiently on Friday night for the train to pass by.

The trains in Flagstaff are very long.

There was snow on the ground and it looked colder than it was. In Flagstaff, people were wandering around shopping and I finished buying Mummy some presents. We drove by a photo mural by Chip Thomas. His ephemeral works of art are beautiful.

























Baby.

Evan drove most of the weekend, and today I convinced him that macaroni and cheese made with Velveeta was delicious.
























The lady at the knitting store asked him about his wife, while I stood there. Sigh.

I had brought along my large wicker wreath and we went out in the woods to cut pieces of pine and juniper.

Evan procures.

There were elusive elk prints everywhere, and we saw a long-eared jackrabbit scamper away. At one point a pair of hawks flew high overhead, calling.



















Hawk.

There was enough snow to make a snow angel (or perhaps, a snow demon in my case).




















I am graceful.

I wonder what the hawk thought as it watched me flounder in the snow.




















Angel.

That afternoon we completed the wreath, using old large holiday bulbs to add a splash of color.

It is hanging above the fireplace now.