' [Willy Sloper] always referred to the furnace as "She." "I got her wide open," he'd tell you on a cold night, or "Say, Cuffy, she'll be needing a couple tons stove coal tomorra, next day, tella Boss." Or oftener still with a knock on Father's study door, "Say, Mr. Melendy, the furnace, she's on the fritz again." This would be followed by an exasperated sound from Father. Once he said, "Okay, Willy. Call in Mr. Yellen. But the next time she acts up I'm going to replace her with a good dependable oil furnace; maybe gas. This way it's like being married to an Italian opera singer. Tell her I said so." '
The Saturdays, by Elizabeth Enright
This I quote not only because I love Elizabeth Enright's wit, and furnaces have been very necessary recently (it was 8 degrees this morning), but also because it reminds me of the temperament of one of the other machines in our house. Our computer, which always makes a pathetic groan when we ask it to do something, has now resorted to grunting like a pig, clicking at odd intervals, and generally acting like it is about to die. It also lost some pictures, and shut down unexpectedly, so uploading pictures was more trouble, and therefore, unduly procrastinated. All that to say, I finally did it, and am very glad I did. I hope you enjoy them.
Christmas in the Country
Nana's Birthday Party
Peter Spire's Christmas
Seven Silly Eaters
Gingerbread, to put it simply, deep with ginger and lemon. . .
winter fog. . . entirely delightful.
Lovely friends of ours enjoying games and chatter. . .Baby Josiah . . .
So are the lanes between the haystacks.
And the reward of braving the cold winter's day is seeing eight deer from close range just as dusk is falling.
There were many happy hours around the sink and kitchen table. . . love you guys!