The snow still lingers. Now just patches of white among dead grass.
The dogs are bored. Charlie just wants to go outside. He doesn't much care about the weather.
Abi looks balefully out onto the street, hoping for a mailman or something to appear so that she can gather her energy to bark.
I don't know about other dogs, but my dogs can hear a Fed Ex truck blocks away. They jump up on the couch and start barking as though there is danger just around the corner, heading their way.
And then I'll see a Fed Ex truck drive past. And they are a flurry of barking and jumping.
This deep red blooming Bromeliad makes me smile every day. I sit in my chair in the corner, and it is right there within my sight to enjoy.
I've been reading John Grisham's Sycamore Row. I hadn't read any of his books for some years. But the man does not disappoint.
He still can produce razor-sharp dialogue. His writing is outstanding. One of those books that's hard to put down.
But then my eyelids grow heavy, and I feel my body relaxing and I turn off the lamp. The dogs settle into the quilt and snooze. About three or four times a night they wake me to go out.
I stand at the back door shivering, watching the black night for two little creatures to appear on the porch and make a run for the door. They're immensely entertaining. Then it's back to bed to snooze some more.
And now I'm headed to the kitchen to start my morning coffee. That first taste is always the best. A bit of half & half, stirred, and it's off to the chair in the corner to start work for the day.