My mom is probably very mad that she died ten days before Christmas. At her home in Louisiana, I'm combing through photos of her last trip to Missouri where she spent her 70th birthday in March. I'm thinking of how she wanted me to delete any photos where she was wearing a knit cap (like in fieldtrips to the woods). It was cold on March 3 this year, but she insisted on wearing her birthday crown to every Hermann establishment that day instead of her knit cap, remarking "I bet people are saying 'look at that old lady who thinks she's so cute...'" They probably were because she was cute, and the most beloved woman in my life. She left in her will that she wanted some of her ashes scattered in a certain tract of Ozark woods I visit every week and some in the Grand Tetons where she scattered my stepfather's ashes this past summer.