This morning is such a perfect frosty cold morning: everything is silvered over and smells like woodsmoke. (Although it may be the end of my late season greens. Well, they put up such a valiant fight and gave me so many beautiful salads.) The bells from downtown seem to travel much more clearly in the cold air, or maybe it's that they have their Christmas programing running so that they play bell-versions of Christmas hymns that stand out more than the usual recording. I remember climbing the tower in Granada to see the real (and ancient) bells at one of the cathedrals, rushing down the tight spiral stairs to not be so close to them when they started clanging on the quarter hour. They were so old and had been used so many times that the steps had soft, smooth divots in them from the feet of hundreds upon hundreds of years of people going up and down them.

This week is going to be bonkers. Tonight is quiet and relaxing, and then after that I have something every single day and evening, plus the release at work. It's going to be quite a tangle if I end up needing to work late any of those days. I also have the house inspector coming this week, which gives me a mingled feeling of excitement and dread. This could really be the point where the wheels fall off of this whole thing. Yesterday, I spent hours peeling vines out of my siding, breathing in the dust and pulverized nests of a dozen generations of birds. Still, by Saturday, there will be a clearer picture of everything - and maybe then I can finally think about relaxing. (Ha.)