Dinner and an ode

I'm staying in a big, creaky house with a blue dining room and antique light fixtures in each room. It's a lovely change of scenery, but I have yet to transfer my digital camera over here. So, tonight, as I ate my steamed artichoke and the stripped leaves piled up in a blue and white hand-painted Polish bowl, I couldn't snap a picture to share with you. Along with a balsamic-spiked mayo dip, cold beer, and book of American poetry, it was quite a picturesque, albeit quaint, experience.

Here's a set of polaroids to share with you instead:



I took them in April while visiting my uncle and his family. I was immediately enchanted by the old bench with peeling paint tucked up against their back fence, and may this blog post transition into a bit of an ode to them. They are currently driving from Texas to Nebraska, having (heroically) packed up ten years of living in one house with three young children to boot.

It was such a gift to get to know them better, being that so much of my family is spread apart and when it comes down to it, most cousins, aunts, and uncles fall into the acquaintance category. Their home quickly became an oasis of familiarity in this foreign land known as Texas.



J, A, K, A, & W: Thank you for that. I'm glad I don't have to spend too much more time in this state without you guys, even if it was just knowing you and your espresso machine were three hours away.