Well seasoned
Old Man Winter is definitely breathing down our necks. He’s not even being subtle about it but then, is he ever? The signs are everywhere, starting with the fruit tree in our backyard, the one where the bird feeder is always busy, the little birds scrapping with one another for room at the trough as they attempt to fatten up for the winter ahead.
The tree is naked except for a few dead leaves shivering in the cold and wind and looks like it should be in front of a haunted house – perfect for the season – the birds perched high on the stark branches resembling bats.
And then there are Hubby’s socks. . . . contd.
