Saturday

We had our frost.

When I let the cheepers out, I watched them puff out their feathers and I felt a tad sad for them: they will not feel that warmth of a heated space until next spring. I know, I know -- I'm projecting our frail human sensibilities onto down-covered birds, but surely they prefer a more moderate range of temperatures than what we're about to have.






Ed and I had carried the preferred pots of annuals to the sun room. It's not a brilliant solution -- there isn't enough sun in the room to really allow for a continued robust bloom, but there's enough light to give us a little color in the winter months. (Obviously the plants are at their best right now.)

And so breakfast is in the sun room, surrounded by the pots brimming with dainty flowers.







(... and with garden flowers in the vase as well.)






And then I am with Snowdrop.






Remember, fewer words this week. Just a few of my images of the little girl. I'm sure you could make up the captions -- and you wouldn't be far off. Except for the last one of her. Let me scroll right to it.






















This is it -- a photo from our walk. (With hood today!) Every day, we pass a house with a white picket fence. On top of the fence, the owners have put up a simple pinwheel. Snowdrop and I study it always, delighting in its spinning motions, loving the sparkle, the spontaneous movement.






It's just one high point of our walk.

(Today, you could say that the autumnal colors were also a high point, but Snowdrop seems less inclined to appreciate autumnal colors just yet.)






That's it for today!