A Tree of Paper Cranes
Stringing popcorn and cranberry garland or tossing it all in the air and seeing where things land
Odds and ends today, but the memory of the hope tree is a touchstone this week and a catalyst for looking back. The invitation to shake the personal snow globe is undeniable. This is the allure and softness of the final weeks of the year.
“Every crane I fold is a prayer for peace.”— Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes
Happy Sunday!
My goal this week was to just make and keep a few notes, the threading and stringing of a popcorn and cranberry garland to record the flow of days.
But, really, who needs such an orderly progression?
The fragmentation is intentional. This is the feeling that fits. The scatter. The layering. The mishmash. More and more I embrace this diffusion.
We had carolers at the door this week, a family of four. A first. It was charming and wonderful.
We still have no stove/oven and no clear plan.
I need a plumber and then an electrician?
Or do I need an electrician and then a plumber?
Do I really need more than I need?
Each day has a part to play in what I share each week. By Friday morning, I usually spend my pre-work, first-cup-of-coffee hour really honing in on the shape of the opening. This week, I got lost in the forgotten past.
On a particularly dark morning (literally, because I am still tracking morning light, and this it’s-gonna-rain morning was the darkest yet), I turned on my “River” playlist. (I think to know me you have to understand and appreciate having a playlist of “River” covers.)
🎯 The Sunday post is free to all readers. Thank you to readers who have upgraded their subscriptions or left a tip jar donation.
We all benefit from strong creative habits and routines, and I look forward to documenting life alongside you in the coming year.
For the best viewing experience, use the app or view in a browser.
Thinking about the crane tree, I opened Google Photos and started scrolling through photos from Decembers over the last eight years. The crane tree photos are nestled among hundreds of other tree photos. There are so many photos of my mom and me, so much visible change…hair, face, weight. I know the changes this year have been dramatic.
“I’m functional,” I told the doctor this week.
“But could you be better than just functional?”
In my photo scrolling, I ran into year-end grids I made in other years. These are probably better suited for the last week of the year, but it was nice to see them, to sink into them a bit.
Update: this post was free at the time of its publication. A paywall has now been added.