It has been snowing off and on today. The big flakes swirl and blow like a big snow globe one moment and then, without any fanfare, slow to a float, calmly and silently twirling among barren branches and around blackened plants to fall gently upon the mud and disappear.
It is November now... and there is hay in the barns and wood lined up in a row and a blazing woodstove in the basement. There are soups for lunch and quilts on the bed and delicious yarns to work with and Christmas presents to dream up. There is a big living room where train villages and Playmobil people can spread their legs and candles, lit first thing in the morning and blown out right before bed, that smell the house of pumpkin pie and maple syrup waffles. There is banana bread for breakfast and garlic hanging in the barn...not nearly enough. There are stories to tell and white board Pictionary on Sunday nights. There are thick, lined curtains newly hung in two windows upstairs in hopes that they will keep out the bluster, bought at Salvation Army and handmade with just the most beautiful mustard and turquoise floral fabric. There are treks to the garden for vibrant swiss chard and cold-loving kale and beets that need to be brought in and canned but mostly the gardens are dead and sad and ugly looking...begging for a nice warm layer of mulch to see it through til spring. There are pistachio shells drying by the woodstove because they are worth the splurge if, along with the yumminess, they can be turned into something beautiful. There is an exceeded limit of requested books on my library account and movies awaiting a cuddle with Matt.
It is November now...and we are as ready as we'll ever be for the cold and blustery days that are on their way.