View from the kitchen...

Nevermind dates, the final season of 2013 is upon us. As cousin Marilyn says, "You can see the bones of the trees". And beautiful they are, just as she reminded me.

Despite reports, there seems nothing about winter that is so awful. Of course, I am kept warm here in this elderly farmhouse and it isn't March when high heating bills, icy outdoor movement, mud and slop seem eternal. This old farmhouse has seen many of these seasons come and go. I am glad I am alive and well enough to see it happen again.

The family is back in the groove; John just drove Keoni to the Lansdale station to catch his train to Philly for orchestra practice. His day will use the train two more times to go to Mr. de Pasquale's for violin lesson, and back to Lansdale where Wendy will pick him up and go to the Trader Joe's on the way back. At least, that is the plan though it is early in the day.

Aidan sleeps on upstairs after his orchestra practice at Bryn Mawr college last night.

John's delivery taxi is completed and he is now busy making his egg breakfast at the stove. And surprise, he set a whole breakfast down in front of me! Yum.

The chickens are undisciplined and lay in nest-du-moment; thus, the egg supply is now reduced to zero. We learned from neighbor Joe that 15 of their eggs were in his barn; found by his great-granddaughter. He didn't know about it until the eggs were in his grandson's refrigerator. That was before the fence went up. So far, the chickens haven't flown over our fence to seek other nests.

Further searches of our barn will take place today.