It is cold. The ever-so-small Christmas tree is up, decorated and lovely and sitting near the front window while outside the cold works to creep in. Snow lays frozen on the ground white and the sky is a pale gray. Chuck sleeps snugly in his bed following another late night (what will ever happen to him..?). Ron the cat is sick. The house is quiet and outside is the sound of the trash truck making its way around the neighborhood.
Hot spiced cider (not from a packet, lord help us, but real cider with lemon and orange slices, cinnamon sticks and some whole cloves) is lovely....as are hot soups, stews and anything hearty and warm.
The shed was cracked open this morning, the trash was set on the curb and the snow shovel was extracted. Oh my, it is cold and I think about the people (farmers mostly) who have to be out in this weather, feeding stock and other things, or the mail people delivering the mail, or the little kids who stand at the bus stops, or the trash men collecting the trash...God help them, but it is cold.
"Every mile is two in winter." George Herbert