Woodsmoke scents the piney air up here on this cold morning; the sun shines brightly, just for today; and where the heavy rains of the past week have left little pools of water on the ground, the light dances on those surfaces – looking like the tiny fairy lights on our Christmas tree. Our friendly neighborhood squirrels are out in force, scurrying along the tops of fences and pouncing to the ground when they spot another fallen acorn.
We await more rain, possibly even snow, as the weekend progresses; I just had an "instant message" from granddaughter Caitlin in Seattle, warning of a blizzard moving into their area: and predictions are for that storm to head right down the California coast to our mountains, by Sunday evening.
I've had a quiet week indoors, as the skies rained down mercy (which, as you know, droppeth as a gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath) – and my shopping, wrapping, packing of boxes and mailing were all finished, a week ago. My war against a bronchial virus kept me lying very low these past few rainy days, wrapped in a warm faux-mink throw and huddled by the fire in the parlor wood stove (I'll take any excuse I can get, to stay lazy and cozy while my dear husband runs about doing the shopping and cooking and bringing me medicine and hot drinks!)
We are so liberally blessed in this home; and my thankful prayers go forth to God this morning especially, with the good news that our Britishers have arrived safely in Boston, bound for Cape Ann and a white Christmas gathering at eldest daughter Teri's home in Gloucester.
So the next five days promise to be as lovely as the past week, with more stormy weather coming to provide permission for further cozy huddling by the fire – and lots of hot tea with honey. Winnie-the-Pooh would love it here, almost as much as I do!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Things sound marvelous, on both coasts.
Two questions for Poo: why are you 'in' the parlor wood stove? and who's the honey you're having tea with?
Love, Poo
OK, Poo, very cute: actually the fire is in the wood stove: but sometimes up here I do feel like Sam McGee and want to climb right in there with it!
As for my honey, he doesn't take sweet stuff in his tea, but when I have a cold I like a squeeze of lemon and some honey stirred into it. So "don't stir me up, or try to spoon; don't sugar me, or us is throon!"
Post a Comment