If Henry was tired last night, he was certainly not tired this morning. Up at 5, then 5:30, then finally 6 -- my breaking point. Alright, you ridiculous pooch! You with the sweet face and soulful eyes!
I'd left the tree lights on because it really is lovely to see the delicate glow in the room next door, and then to get up to the full spectacle of a tree in an otherwise dark room (because yes, Henry, it is still dark outside).
Only in the photo do I see that one segment of a different sort. In real time, they're all the same. Go figure.
It is a very foggy morning. Really foggy! No one is out yet. Just me and the black dog.
And somehow it's a happy walk. I don't know why this pup puts a bounce into my morning routines, but he does. Henry wakes up joyful. It's contagious, really it is.
And now come the remaining routines: his breakfast, mine. The hiding of the dental chew. Me finding it.
An hour-long snuggle, half his torso resting on my lap...
And it's time for daycare. Our kids should clamber to go to school with such enthusiasm. (Well, perhaps today they did: it seems to be pajama day for the entire school system. For reasons not entirely clear to me, kids of all ages love pajama day.)
Me, I go to the farmhouse. I'd left some stuff there. Wrapping papers. A roasting pan. And I need the printer for a return label. And I'm returning the now empty pots from the balcony. And a Christmas tree stand that I dont need for a fake tree. I truly believed that I took most everything I would ever need with me to the apartment when I moved in mid September. And here I am, carting stuff back and forth, as if I'm still split between two households. Maybe by next summer, I will have settled down for good. Which, at my age, is doubtful, but hey, one can dream.
In the afternoon I think about what constitutes a real wreath and what constitutes a fake one. We are not allowed to hang fresh holiday wreaths or branches on our doors. It falls into the category of fire hazards, much as live Christmas trees. I can understand the rule about trees, but the rule about door hangings puzzles me. I have a wreath that is a "forever" wreath. It's not fresh. The juniper twigs are dry. So if not fresh, then it's okay, right? But if the issue is with the possibility of fire, then of course dry twigs would burn rapidly, much more so than fresh ones. So, if you have a wreath made of sticks, is that not permissible? And if you have a completely fake one, how is that safer? Paper burns. Platic burns as well, releasing toxins into the air. So do any number of other materials. Yet, truly fake wreaths hang gingerly from doors left and right. And how would anything catch fire in the long corridor anyway? The door is made of wood. Surely the door would burn no matter what is hung on it.
In the end I choose a total fake. The logic behind it? Oh, I just want to be a good citizen not a source of controversy here. Bad enough that my once quiet Henry barks at ax wielding strangers in the hallways. May as well not add fuel to any fire.
In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. She is now heading into a six day break from school. She is not complaining.
We pick up both her dog, Goose, and my Henry. Two exuberant hounds, eager to take on the world. But not today. Henry and I click into our quiet evening routine: he eats, I eat, he eats a bit of what I eat. He naps, I read and write. And think about November: it's going out with a fury. Looking at the weather forecast for the next ten days, I note that we will stay below freezing every single day, as far as the eye can see. The heated garage never looked so good!
with so much love...
