May 29, 2015
Bon Iver wrapped some lights around one of his old guitars and propped it against a wall in the corner of the cabin. He hung a pair of worn gloves from a piece of twine he strung over the furnace. He found his grandmother’s recipe for pfeffernüsse, and he’s been baking all day, filling the house with memories and fogging up every last pane of glass. As I trudge down the driveway, I hear him singing so loudly his voice cracks. “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg!” And I just know he’s made the soy nog too strong again.
