[Apparently Canadians talk about the weather more than any other nationality]
I shiver. This is Guatemala, not a lake in north Ontario in late November. Yet, I shiver.
Poor little Blaise has a cold, so his nose whistles when he sleeps. His voice reveals he has a cold too. The past two nights Amber has brought the little blanket kicker into bed with us to make sure he stays warm and can't kick his blankets off. His cold little fists waving about.
I'm quite certain it got down to 0 degrees Celcius last night. I could see frost on the grass in the shadows this morning and on a shirt that fell of the clothesline. I could see my breath in the shower.
Amber and I ate breakfast on the roof in the bright morning sun to try and warm up. She read to me from I John 5. I ate my pineapple banana rice and drank my cacao cafe. There was a cow nuzzling her calf in the meadow. Two large trees behind the field each held a very large white bird - something out of a very overdone 32-color painting of heaven.
I posted more of the family. I like this montage of 7 generations. I just wish we all had Blaise's expression.