So we’re having some classic mountain weather, shifting mists, temperature about 47 degrees, occasional rain. Lots of people hate it, but I happen to love it. Fire in the fireplace, roast in the oven, the idiot Floridians screwed off to Florida for two months … or at least, we can hope.
But … if you love the mountains, it’s a beautiful time to be here. Just the old school things. Fire, long walks in the woods, watch the beautiful winter sunset. Hey, have I mentioned books?
Now it’s “flying up time” as the turkey hunters say. That’s when the shadows begin to fall and the turkey begin to fear there might be a fox slipping up on them. My father used to call it “the witching hour.” The deer are down there, just over the rim of the hill, trying to stay out of sight, eating the few acorns that are left. No sunset tonight, but after a day this beautiful, it hardly matters.