Frozen fruit, frozen toes, a shortage of Lebanese pomegranate molasses. None of my difficulties raise the needle on the scale of human suffering. The day warmed up microscopically, it was just a Test Freeze, and so I said “screw it” and opened the doors and turned off the heater.
Yes, it’s 42F. I don’t care. Winter can bite me. I have plumbers coming, anyway, and they will be in and out. I’m finally going into my old Ranch walls and replacing the insubordinate shower and tub faucet fixtures from the 1970s. Enough went wrong that the deed can no longer be avoided. While they are here they can snake the old clay pipes to the street. I do it once a year, just before everyone piles into my house during the Tucson shows.
The garden is very busy right now, lots of little creatures about. I miss the orange and yellow on the trees, but it’s also kind of beautiful, seeing five huge bowls of fruit on the counter and four more in the fridge. I feel like a farmer. In just a few days, I’ll boys here to help me revel in them. I wonder if the mandevilla vines made it. I covered Eustace, our Limequat tree, but only one of the vines. I tried to plant them in clever spots. It will be interesting to prowl around the garden and see how everything fared. I think I’ll do that now. And maybe I’ll put on another sweater.