It’s dreary, but in a lovely sort of way. A pot of chicken curry is standing at the ready—supper will be yummy. There will be rhubarb-red raspberry pie, too.
A fire is blazing merrily. The children are resting.
I am contemplating what to write for our next writers’ gathering. I’ve almost completed my very first knitted scarf. And I have only a couple more chapters left to read in my mom’s book.
Tomorrow I’ll drive my little boy to the hospital for his surgery. It’s no big deal, really. Still, I feel a little knot in the pit of my stomach.