1984

This fall, my mom did a little excavating in her storage unit and gave me some of her old winter gear. I've been wearing her wonderfully warm down jacket for months as my designated wood gathering wear, but hadn't really looked at the rest until today. Today I put on the full kit and spent half an hour shoveling snow and bringing in wood. Picture it, me in a scene from 1984:

Coat: imagine a simple western-wear shirt (gray and blue and complete with mother of pearl snaps) in hip-length down jacket form.

Pants: Skin tight (on me, because I'm larger than my mother was at my age. sigh.) navy blue bib overalls with suede patches on the inside cuffs.

Accessories: These were partly my own, a rainbow striped beanie, black snow boots, and my mother's old thick fingered grey leather gloves.

I remember my mother here, doing these things, wearing these clothes, and now I'm here, doing these things, wearing these clothes. It sort of befuddled me a little. But I liked it. A lot. I think my mom is amazing, has done amazing things, and I like walking in her overalls for awhile.

(As a side note, is it strange that I actually looked forward to shoveling snow as a study break? That's strange right?)