sun struggling out, but snow squalls forecast, highs minus 5
Lovely morning after a mixed day yesterday. We were in Montreal - great check-ups, all's well - and debated whether to drive back down. The wonderful Lise, who manages our office and takes care of us (she's basically our brains and our common sense) wrote to say 'stay in Montreal' since freezing rain and sleet was forecast and Autoroute 10 is dreadful in the best of times.
So we drove back.
To be fair, we were going to follow Lise's advice, but the bad weather didn't materialize, until about 4:30 when we were on the highway. Drove the last hour through sleet. But everyone kept their heads and it wasn't bad at all.
The temperatures have been fluxuation wildly - from bitterly cold to extrrmely mild. You'd expect we'd be thrilled with mild, but we're not. Partly because a Canadian winter, with snow and chill, is actually unbelievably beautiful. So quiet, everything muffled. I've never seen clarity like a brilliant sunny, crisp day after a snowstorm. Stunning. So we quite like the cold.
the other reason we love the cold is the bugs. As soon as the temperature struggles above freezing we're innundated with ladybugs. It sounds romantic. The symbol of good luck. And one or two, even ten might be. But there are swarms in our home. The guest cottage is even worse. We expect to see family and friends borne out the door on a carpet of flying ladybugs. It's especially difficult at night when the bedside lamps are one. and every bug in the house aims for it. You haven't lived until you've snorted a dozen ladybugs, for luck.
So we're happy with the cold. Especially when guests are visiting. Hard to explain how the idyllic guest cottage can suddenly become a Hitchcock set.
Still writing the party scene. Maybe this book will just be one long party scene at Peter and Clara's. Like the Mousetrap. A one set novel/play. Catered.
Must run. Was going to have a day at home just to write but at 8am got a call from Kirk wondering about material for our newheadboard, which we picked up on our way home yesterday. He needs it. So the car is warming up, Michael is exercising, dogs fed and I'm heading out to deliver 3 yards of Waverly material.
If this is the extent of my problems, keep 'em coming.
My treat today is to sit in a bubble bath (after writing) and read the new edition of Country Life. I give myself monopoly money budgets. Two million pounds is pretty much minimum.
Be well, we warm, watch out for a swarm of flying good luck.