The long-awaited and much-anticipated drop in temps has arrived. We're now down in the 60s. Time to drag out the flannel shirts again. Rain is predicted for sometime today, clearing off later on, and I hope they're not wrong about that since Dave and Clay (in competition for "good son" points) plan to come up tomorrow to split wood. It's one thing to work under damp conditions, quite another if the rain is delayed. Raindrops falling on your head might make for a good song (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), but are less than pleasant if you're trying to work outside. We need the water so badly, but I'm also going to need firewood this winter.
As soon as the guys told me they were coming up, I started planning what I would feed them. In summer, hearty sandwiches are the meals of choice, but given that it will be cool (and possibly wet) tomorrow, I've decided on Chunky Corn Chowder with hot cornbread on the side. That should keep them fueled up for the job.
I got a laugh yesterday at Tim's "farmer's market." One never knows the impression one makes. Now I know. A gentleman I'd met before but briefly, told me he had been trying to remember my name and asked his wife, "You know, the lady with goats who drinks Bud Light." I'm an anomaly here in wine country. It could be worse.
A month away from Thanksgiving and I'm making a shopping list for Turkey Day. I could write that list in my sleep; I've made the same menu for fifty years. The faces atound the table may change over time, but I can guarantee that the dressing will be exactly as it was last year, and the year before that, ad infinitum. It is with joyful anticipation that I look forward to a house filled with family and food. It doesn't get much better than that.