Maybe it’s the lack of snow, or my eyes, but is sure seems darker than usual. Still, it’s nice that Margaret is at the radio station at six to keep us company. Pearl and I stayed in bed and listened to the news while Chip leaped up and did his stretches and worked out above the garage. It was so comfortable that I re-read another Christmas book, A Child’s Christmas in Wales, by Dylan Thomas. (Mine is illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman.)It’s a favorite, especially the part where “Auntie Hannah, who liked port, stood in the middle of the snowbound backyard singing like a big-bossomed thrush.” I’d like to write a story like that. But not right now. Chip just said his friend John is on the way over for coffee, so I’d better get out of my pajamas and make some. I’ve never had port wine,but maybe this afternoon I will, and then sing a few carols in the backyard? I should wait until after the country show. I’m hosting the program from 1-3 today on KHNS. Then again, we could all have a sing-along…
