Damned Cold.

If you like the temps now, friends, just you wait: NOAA has us back at 46 by next Wednesday, but between now and then, well, should your freezer should go out, no problem. Set your butterflied pork chops out on the back deck and they ought to be fine to eat any time, provided you can bring them in to defrost them. Our neighbor stopped by tonight to warn us to put our as-yet-(I know)-unplanted pansies in the basement. I thought she was being overzealous. Turns out she was being friendly. Buckle up and bundle up. Get thee to a space heater, if you're revising in the outbuilding. Get thee to a heavy flannel shirt whether you are or not.

Sounds at the new house: Chimes, on the hour, from the clocktower/steeple. Screaming kids from the church's preschool, a deeply happy sound, I'm oddly willing to report. Kids love to run and yell. I'm not to take that from them, I reckon. Also: train, train yard, train whistle. Four or five separate dogs, none of which go on for too long. Certain bangs from the plumbing, which we're learning.

Goddamn I love this house. I thought I loved the old one, and I did. But I love this house. We are going to have to learn to take care of it.

Hung the thermometer on the front porch.

Planning the bookshelves.

Keeping warm.