Winter’s first true snows have blanketed the yards in our neighborhood. Soft piles gently tuck withered mums and hostas in for a long nap as the ice incased twigs and branches overhead sing a tinkling lullaby. A parade of large flakes marches diagonally beyond my parlor windows, a lovely visual contrast to the warm red and green hues emanating from the room itself.
My holiday garlands are hanging as testament to the energy I had prior to Thanksgiving. The verve faded a week ago, no thanks to a bad bout of bronchitis, and my tree stands naked in the corner. I should make some effort to dust it. There are many other things that need attention. I hope that the antibiotics kick in soon.