It doesn't feel like a typical Middle Atlantic State Christmas Eve today, being a muggy 72F (22C) outside. Although thunderstorms were predicted, they haven't panned out. It's been raining the last couple of days, though, and the ground is saturated. We were outside throwing a Nerf football around, and small gouts of water were thrown up with every step. It's a muggy, muddy day, but the kids got out so cabin fever's been averted temporarily.
The kitchen has been a hotbed of activity, we baked three quiches, a sausage-apple quiche, a quiche Lorraine, and a spinach quiche. I don't know how quiche became associated with effeminacy by yahoos, because I have French ancestry in my genetic mix, but baking and eating quiche hasn't affected my throwing arm adversely.
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3 comments:
Sure as heck is. I have the ceiling fan on and a d.a.w.g. panting loudly behind me.
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Northern California is experiencing what I used to call normal weather: cool, moist, beautiful. The hills are greening; the valleys have been green for a while. It's a vibrant, Kelly sort of green that the rest of the country thinks of as a spring color. Here, it's spring, too, I suppose. It just starts with the first rains of autumn and now, at the beginning of winter, it's in full force. Soon, the Salix, Acacias and almonds will be popping. Now, their twigs are gleaming in the low-angle sunshine . I've already seen a few adventurous paper-white Narcissus blooming. The sierra are building a snowpack to recharge our drinking water system. The Boletus have been impudently flashing us since Thanksgiving. We can pretend all is right with the world. Fa la la and fiddle dee dee.
Mbop.
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