shonagonisms: how i know that it's winter

- Even here in Florida, it's been cold enough that I can't sleep without three blankets and a cat.

- All the leaves are gone from the pecan tree where my room used to be, and the branches stand out like ink-lines against a paper sky.

- I feel the urge to subsist entirely on potatoes and home-made bread, to hoard food for the Cold Times, to sleep for two thirds of the day.

- My first impulse in food-making each dinner time is 'How about some soup?' and I'm desperately glad that I had the forethought to put up turkey broth and pumpkin broth at Thanksgiving and Halloween.

- My thoughts are turning internal, evaluating, planning, being less outwardly productive, but more inwardly constructive.

- The virginia creeper is all red and orange and has gone lacy with the cold.

- Acorns are everywhere, dying the streets saffron where cars have crushed them into flour.

- Oxalis is coming back up, and the grassy summer weeds are being replaced by wintercress as we speak.

- All the oranges all over the neighborhoods are bright orange and round and heavy, just waiting for a freeze.

- All the cats, and even the dog congregate around the heating vents and tolerate a much closer contact with each other.

- I feel the pull of an ancestral life, where winter is a rest from work and I should be able to bundle up with a hot cup of tea, and focus on a book or an embroidery.