It was a crisp and cold fall morning. The rain had stopped and although the leaves were still wet the asphalt was dry, except for the large puddles that dotted our rough and uneven parking lots. A hazard of cold winters and hot humid summers, the melt and freeze that takes place from November to January and then again from February to April. I went to the farmers market and bought a big container of honey for baking (trying to switch back to my pre-child diet of no refined sugars (ha wish me luck), some macoun apples (my favorite) some big white potatoes for baking, celery, leeks, free range brown eggs, and three bottles of Treleaven wine. Two sweet ones for my sis and friend, and one just for me. I was waiting on a friend to go to the Bhutanese Cultural Festival but I was ready early and went alone. Everyone was so friendly. I also tasted some Nepali food which reminded me of North Indian food. One dish was called aloo, which I have come to know as curried potatoes at my favorite Indian restaurant. I also had Roti a fried ring that looked like onion rings but tasted completely unlike anything I have ever had. Delicious. Then I bathed the dog, and went to an art show my friend was in. I came home and the grey skies had turned to sunny with a brisk cold wind. I lit a fire and sewed contentedly four little key chains. One of my co workers had requested one just like mine. Off now to put in my three remaining storm windows and make some dinner. I have a baby sweater to knit. It’s completion is needed, baby is imminent. A happy day.