Winter is hinting that maybe… perhaps it will come to my part of New England. Unlike many of my peers, I can’t wait! I eye my woodpile, checking the temperature and hoping it dips low enough that I can satisfy my New England Yankee natural tendencies. You see, you can’t just light the fireplace. There has to be a reason. I’m not overly religious, but wasting anything is a mortal sin in my book. I gather fallen twigs and can what I can’t eat in Mason jars. I cook for the week and make sure it’s something I really (really) like, because I’ll be eating it until it’s gone. My latest venture is making mead. I like it. It’s too expensive to buy by the bottle, and there’s something satisfying about creating your own.
But enough about me! This coming week is a holiday in the United States, called Thanksgiving. It is a day about celebrating the bounties of this life with good friends and family, and I will be celebrating by releasing an extra chapter of this story, and then returning to my regular Sunday schedule.
My thanks to you. I appreciate your reading and sharing this journey with me.