Brrrr!

Flannel sheets are on the bed, the wood stove radiates warmth in the great room, and there's a hard freeze warning tonight. Brr! Winter has come regardless of the calendar.

The mountains were just glorious today. Visibility was crystal clear, and both Mt. Shasta and Mt. Lassen have their winter hats on -- white snow. The deer are munching the fresh green grass that's everywhere now, although they still try to sneak a bite of cat food occasionally. But no more handouts from the garden -- it's down for the winter too. The outdoor cats have thick, furry coats almost overnight, it seems, and they have shelter and plenty of warm pads and blankets, but I still worry about them when it's so cold.

Okay, I know that 30 degrees isn't THAT cold. But this is California! And my blood is thinner than it was in those colder climes from previous lives. Still, I love the sweaters and sweatshirts, the fuzzy socks and slippers, afghans tucked around me when we're watching TV. I'm a winter girl, not a summer one. (But not too much winter, please. I don't want snow and ice, and 30 is plenty cold enough.)

How fortunate we are to have warmth and food and "enough." That's from one of those e-mail stories that made the rounds a while back. It was fairly schmaltzy (although it made me puddle), but I loved the sentiment. Here's the poem:

"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye."
--Bob Perks

I counted blessings today as I drove home from errands and appointments in town. My head was so full of have-tos and want-tos and shoulda-dones that I was having a lot of trouble focusing on the here and now, the present moment. So I looked at beautiful mountains. I felt the warm sun on my cheek and the breezes tousling my hair. I knew there'd be a welcoming hug for me at the end of the driveway. I had enough of everything right then and there, and I gave thanks.

It helps.