It’s Monday, December 2.

You know how I know it’s December? It’s cold out. Oh, and Thanksgiving is over.

And oddly, the snow has started on my blog again. Who knew that was recurring?

I really am stunned, actually. I had so much to finish before now. And now, it’s now.

I remember my mother telling me that time goes faster when you’re older. This was when I complained that the summer dragged on toward the end. Or that it was horrible waiting for something upcoming. But, my mom was right. Time does go faster.

So fast, in fact, that as I sit here typing I can remember the first warm breeze of Spring. I remember the first buds on the trees and the first promise of summer. It was a blink ago.

I’m not saying I like winter. Or the fast passage of time. But I do have to admit that the cold nights cuddled on the sofa wrapped in the wedding quilt that Andrew’s aunt made totally by hand can be really peaceful and sweet. And that the early darkness sometimes feels like permission to relax a little earlier and that the heartier dinners like stew or pasta with brussel sprouts make me smile.

Now, I even have a down coat and a warm pair of boots. It’d been years since I’ve really bundled up, but I have a few trips on the calendar to colder places than this.

And even though it’s not technically winter for a couple more weeks, it’s winter to me.

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