It’s Christmas eve day and I have the house, and Hearthwood, to myself. I spent the morning sawing some firewood. Jean and the kids are at the Phillipson’s sledding and playing when with the rest of the family, in from Boston and California.
The snow is still here. Not much is melted; it’s just settled down into a big, wet, mushy slick mess. Hence, we will have a white Christmas tomorrow.
The new year is coming.