Today is November 6. It was 75 degrees today. What? Crazy. It is warmer outside than it is inside my house.
Sydney stood at the front screen door today, looking out onto the lawn at the fox, sitting on our lawn, not 15 feet from our door, looking back at Syd. For a minute I thought about letting Syd out, but then she bolted for the open back door. But only after staring at each other long enough for me to get my phone and almost long enough for me to take a picture of that little fox. She and her siblings torment Syd. We've seen three of them at once across the street. We've also seen one sitting in nearly the same spot in the middle of the night, only to find a fox "butt" print in the snow in the morning. And we've seen one catch a squirrel.
It's hard to complain about 75 in November. But it makes me worry about our planet earth. It shouldn't be 75 in November. We should have snow; the heat should be on. Something just isn't right.
I have just one more trip this travel season. I'm wishing it were over. But it was nice to be home on this Saturday. For a run with Syd and breakfast with a friend. A few errands and non-existent motivation (okay, maybe not so good) and an impromptu, soul-filling margarita with my dearest of friends.
Time to roast some squash for soup - in preparation for the fall weather that is bound to come soon.
