I haven't been apple picking. I can't rake my lawn. I thought about making a pot roast or chili, but my fargin' leg has me depressed. Perhaps that is why I jumped at a chance to get out of the house yesterday to putz about with my administrative assistant for a couple of hours. We did bargain shopping and I didn't return with much but a bottle of wine and the smell of the holiday season. Something about the pine cones seems to say, "purchase me," so I did. I purchased them and now my house smells like Santa Clause land. I want to put my lights up, but will wait until Thanksgiving. Dang.
Lois also left me with apple crisp to serve hot over ice-cream, but I'm a bit stuffed from the omelet I had for dinner. Perhaps I will indulge tomorrow. On second thought, smelling this in Connecticut and missing my wood burning stove on a Saturday night, I think I will serve myself the treat immediately.
Where did the summer season go?