The gnarled, bony fingerlimbs of old October grasp and play with the silver specks of the moon orb, becoming more and more exposed as the thieving Autumn winds snatch her ruby and gold adornments. Lady October never notices, you see, because Autumn winds are cunning.
So cunning, that I too have been tricked. Michevious Autumn stole from the day its warming breeze and mild nights, without even an upward glance from me.
Two nights ago, in the wee dark hours of morning, Matt stirred and awoke abruptly-and trudged downstairs. I groaned, rolling self and swollen baby belly to squint unbelievingly at the alarm clock. I hadn't HEARD the alarm. Could it be time to rise so soon? But bright red numbers stung my eyes as I read 3:00. Still a *few* hours, but where had Matt gone?
Later I found out: the furnace had begun to run but wasn't producing heat. The oil tank gave an offensive ting-echo when tapped, telling the truth that had alluded us up until this point, that it has been dangerously low when we moved in-and now, sat empty. Try though it did, no warmth was it giving.
Our hope had been to buy/install a wood furnace this year but for several reasons, we have resigned ourselves to wait. Wait until next fall, for the lovely crackle of burning wood and the satisfaction of warmth even while on the other side of glass panes, blustery winds bit at its victims.
So oil must be our friend for another year, dependent are we upon its kindnesses.
But the oil man can not fill the handicapped tank until Monday afternoon...nearly a week after we discovered our problem.
So days have been spent watching the thermostat drop lower and lower, each morning a bit more offensively, until this morning it had dropped to 49.
Three and a half more days to go....
Like dragons, steam billows from our mouths as we chew, speak, breathe.
Noses and cheeks gleam pink and red, even while staying inside.
Socks and slippers are worn, robes donned in morningtime, and sweaters the rest of the day.
Shivers attack us at the most inopportune times, and we laugh at their spontenaity.
Even still, there is much to be thankful for, and setting our hearts on these things will help to warm from within.
WHAT could I possibly be thankful for as my (and my childrens') patooties freeze each day?
~ For the splendid warmth of hot cocoa running down our throats, with whipped cream. Because we deserve it.
~ For flannel sheets, that sheild us from sheet-shock as we climb into bed.
~ For footed, flannel PJ's for the children to snuggle into each night.
~For Corynn's down comforter and Andrew's military poncho, for afghans and quilts. Sleeping is cozy and sweet, made more sweet for me, finding comfort that our little ones are comfortable.
~ That this sudden heatstrike has happened BEFORE Bunkin is born, and that it will be resolved before Bunkin's arrival home.
~ For the tangled legs of Mama and Papa, entwined together the whole night long, finding comfort in the smooth or roughness of the other.
~ For bodies melding, arms tucked snug around the bodies of the other, cuddles that last the whole night through, in hopes to create and share warmth.
~ For yesterday, a day of sunshine and warmth that, when windows were opened, graciously visited our walls within and raised the thermostat up a bit.
~for it's happening in FALL, not mid-winter.
~ For a working stove and oven, so food can fill our bodies and the warmth of its cooking can spill into the kitchen and home.
~ For the cuteness of children wearing hats indoors and made thick with layers.
~ For the glimmer of eyes, despite red nose and lips silent of complaint.
~ For more motivation to work harder and snuggle longer.