December 5, 2002
I like rosehips dangling on bare branches against a background of fresh white snow. All the neighbors have lavish Christmas light displays; I have red rosehips. An artificial tree is wrapped in plastic in the basement. I used to send out Christmas Cards. When Christmas lost meaning, I started to make my own; for a few years I made woodblock prints, for a few years I tried collage. Last year I cut up all the cards I received, rearranged them, and sent them back in pieces. I’m not sending cards this year. I just might gather the fallen rosehips though.