I am fortunate to have escaped symptoms from my flu shot and Covid booster yesterday; but I decide not to swim as my Covid arm is very sore. Charlie and I go on a long walk; possibly too long for him. He rested the rest of the day. It was wintry cold for our first day of December. Thirty five years ago this night I was in labor with my first child, my son. The long long long night of birthing him, over two weeks past his due date. He is away in the woods of Vermont working with his clients on their weekly venture into the woods and I am not likely to be be able to reach him. I had a busy day, the chance to listen to clients and friends and help writers and food shop and prep dinner before my hair appointment. So nice to come home to a bustling house and to be thanked for the dinner I had left, and to have it cooked and ready for me as well. These long dark nights of December are cold and pleasant. The painters seem to have finished, mostly, the painting of the whole downstairs, or nearly. The drop cloths are gone and the walls are a perfect color our friend, Ami, advised us to use. In every room, in every light, it’s slightly different shade of silvery green/grey. I get to be a bedtime storyteller and singer tonight. I sense a snow coming soon, and told a long story about snowplows and snowball fights and snowmen that was much appreciated.