Apples on our Jade crabapple tree; leaves have fallen, the tiny apples remain

We slept so comfortably last night, as though we were in a warm, fluffed cocoon. Whenever Irving goes off shopping on a whim he has a tendency to return with something we don't need, whether it's a food item or anything else he thinks might be of use and finds irresistible. A few weeks ago he brought home a bed set of light and fleecy fabric; top sheet, fitted sheet, two pillowcases. A week ago I took everything out of its neat zipped bag and laundered it. Yesterday the set found its way on our bed. Beyond luxurious and warm. A skeptic no longer am I.

 

 

This morning we woke to yet another heavily overcast day. A gray gloom over the landscape. No light penetrating through our windows of a gloriously sunny day. And it's likely there won't be too many gloriously sunny days. It is, after all, November, the least sunny month of any season. But the temperature had risen and was already 5C, and of course, no snow flurries. Grim and bear it.

We took our time over breakfast, reading the newspapers. We're more or less glued to the news of late. Which is to say, more than usual. Not much to cheer about, to be sure. This is a world we've been dropped into that is both familiar and unfamiliar. We see history repeating itself. We  see the great public surpassing itself in idiocy. And we talk quietly about it all. Then try to shove it all out of mind. Not very successfully.

 

Today's the usual baked dessert day. So I thought I'd do something on the lines of lemon squares. Starting out with a buttery crust that I pre-baked until it turned a nice light brown, and then a lemon-inspired filling, almost a cake, but not quite, comprised of eggs, sugar, lemon juice and flour. Poured into the base, it baked for another 40 minutes, and dessert was done.

Irving went out on one of his shopping expeditions, this time to pick up large, clear plastic bags and small bungee cords to cover everything in the garden that's vulnerable to winter weather. That has to be done on a dry day, so in the next week or so it'll be done, and then we're truly prepared for the sleet, ice and snow to fly.

 

Meanwhile, out in the forest there's no mistaking a November landscape. Sere, lacking a range of colours, cold, windy. But the air is fresh and bracing, and the trails are in fine shape, and there can always be something found to be of interest to point out to one another. Like a cache of cones assembled by an enterprising squirrel, or cones disassembled atop a tree stump.

Jackie and Jillie don't often discuss with us the things that intrigue them when we're all making our way through the trails, but whatever those fascinating discoveries are, they're kept busy with them. Our companionship has its togetherness feel and mutual pleasure derived from it, but deep discussions aren't part of it.