geographical mutt; or, i am now minnesotan

This is how I know: I am hugely familiar with the quiet shushing of afternoon snow. I know it is icicles breaking off my car when I am driving away. I don't shudder any more at the sound of tires in the packed snow, even if it did once remind me of chewing ice, grinding teeth.

Chattanooga claims my childhood though. This is what I knew then--cicadas and crickets, fireflies in a glass jar, thunderstorms at night and heat lightening, low slung mountains and winding rivers, corn bread and fried chicken.

There are subtle changes, the slide of accent from one to another. (I say "eh?" and "yah" now; it used to be "ya'll.") I suppose what made me notice that I belong here, Minnesota is my home now, is when stopped wearing long underwear, when I could make it outdoors without my hat and mittens.

Sometimes I fantasize about living somewhere else--Maine or Massachusetts, Oregon or Alaska. For now, I won't mind visitation rights, because my home, in the end, is essentially here, alongside my husband.


Today, I purchased photographs from the following etsy sellers and I can't wait for them to arrive, so I can have them framed, and fill up the house with poetry and photography: 1, 2, 3, 4.

Tonight, I will order a handful of different Alaska images for postcards and a handful of everyday images for prints to add to my own etsy shop. Maybe some of the above?