We've been having french toast almost every morning. Tim's new thing is to make a hole in the bread and pour a whole egg in and cook it like that.
My mom and dad and Tim spent a whole day tearing out massive hunks of forsythia and putting in the beginning of the garden. My mom brought lots of splits from her garden to share into mine ~ I'm going to tuck in lots of purple allium bulbs as well as giant daffodils since there's nothing like yellow after the winter. I've been cutting my yellow cosmos to pop into my thrifted turquoise Japanese vase ~ orange cosmos are profusive in coming up everywhere from the seeds I collect and scatter each year wherever I live. They were originally from my Great-Aunt Evelyn's plants up north and each year I forget I only want to gather from the yellow plants until it's too late and I've already got a great handful of mixed seed.
Cedar has started trying to talk. He takes considerable pride in it and sounds like a baby loon or an owl. It is beyond words. Yesterday we had tea and a chat with a friend and her new son, born 3 days after Cedar. I think seeing another little baby blew his mind. This morning he awoke earlier than usual and we came downstairs to find 3 deer eating one of our bushes and the shadows in the backyard sunbeams showing the descent of a turkey vulture onto the roof. The hummingbirds migrated while we were on vacation but the cardinals are still going strong and I look forward to seeing them in the snow.
The house is about 60* now in the mornings so I put on the space heater, make some breakfast and then cozy him and I into the great room with the doors closed, by now warmed up. Soon we will need to put wood-burning inserts into the two fireplaces and bank them up well in the evenings so the coals last till morning. The leaves are beginning to fall, importantly, slowly, from incredible heights. A little while every day recently I've put Cedar into the Moby wrap, grabbed the red clippers, and gone out into the woods to clear our trail. He always falls asleep to the crackling of twigs underfoot and the sound of the wind in the boughs.