okay, it's snow. barely. But it is cold now. Anything is possible.
It is raining so hard I can hear it smashing against the pavement. It is dark and cold and wet outside. I finally put curtains up in my bedroom window. And no, no one can look in anyway. The birch is the tree I live with all year. It counts the seasons for me. I have miles to go today before I get back here.
I don't know how squirrels always stay dry. These are things I saw on my wet walk around the neighbourhood with Annie.
Fidel missed his 80th birthday party. He would never do that unless things were seriously wrong.
Mostly I worry about the Cubans in Miami who think once Fidel dies, they will jump in boats and 'liberate' Cuba. They are really scary.
Cristal is the Cuban beer we buy. My son Bear, who lived there, says it is 'the good stuff' because it comes in bottles. In his small town, there was a beer truck and you filled up your pail.
Where is my snow? In Vancouver. There has been some sort of very big mistake.
If you find a mitten or glove, you stick it up somewhere so the owner will find it. As a result, there are a lot of mittens, gloves, hats and scarves stuck up on things by the end of winter.