December skies look leaden behind the sleeping bones of trees. Funny how one kind of plainness can highlight another making the combination appealing to the eye.
Of course there are other strange things that appeal to me: The playground of my elementary school with its scraggly grass and gray metal monkey bars. Big dated kitchens with white enamel sinks and tall cabinets flanking scarred wooden tables. Old cars running rumbly on cold winter mornings with that warm, old-fashioned smell.
I think it is partly the memories of these places that add the coziness it takes to make them desirable, but it is also the strength of them. There is something very appealing about strong, durable, functional objects. They speak of lamplight and hot buttered toast, the staple of all childhoods.
These are the laps I still go back to sit on when I don’t fit anywhere else.
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