Ah, glorious frigid morning, finally! We covered the tomatoes late last night after suspecting a coming frost, and it is a good thing we did. I woke this morning to a brilliant sun, glancing out the windows of the kitchen, into the backyard, to see the heavy nod of my pansies beneath a blanket of crystalline beauty and the certain death of our peppers, which were forced to bear the brunt of the chill naked. Joe has lit the fireplace for a warm Sunday treat and the musky scent of burning wood tinges the air with the smell of coffee while I peruse the Sunday ads looking eagerly for signs of retail panic reflected in sale prices, which frustratingly enough don't seem to be presenting as blatantly as I would like. I got a little Christmas shopping done last night at Stacey's Partylite sample sale and got us a lovely new hurricane lanterm that reflects dancing snowflakes on the frosted glass when lit, sure to play a role somewhere in my decorations for the Christmas tea, coming up fast.
The frost is already melting away, shimmering into droplets almost from the moment the sun touches it and we are headed to about 66 degrees, not exactly fireplace weather. But I am enjoying it while it is here...we didn't turn on the furnace last night, so the house is nippy. I have baking and writing and painting to do today, maybe some Christmas shopping if time allows, which I am already pretty sure it won't. Alex has popcorn to deliver and eventually today I return the boys to their dad's house. Mom leaves on Wednesday to have her Thanksgiving holiday in Nebraska and is bringing my Grandma back to spend the month of December with our family here in Texas, which we are all rather giddy about...its the first time we have done that and all of us are looking forward to spending time with her.
So that's more of my quiet little life reflection on a Sunday in November. We've hit the point we brought Joseph home from the hospital two years ago after his bone marrow transplant. I am trying to decide whether to have his angel tree again this year, or to mingle the memories of him with the rest of the family on our traditional heirloom tree. He is still, after all, a part of us. I will see, when it comes time to decorate for Christmas, which way the wind is blowing.