A few final snippets of this place. I will miss you, no.53.
Traditions: I plead and whine until Dad takes me tree picking; I hunt out cookie cutters and make a mess in Mum's kitchen; we stay up late and discuss the odds of a sunny Christmas day; we cook enough food for the province. We laugh. A lot.
This is my favourite time of the year.
I spent about half an hour staring up into the trees, craning my neck, taking care to stay quiet, in order to capture this moment; out of the fifty or so images I took, this one is the only one worth keeping. And I don't mind one bit. It was worth the wait. What a beauty.