I love this time of year. Luminarias.
Advent.
Æbleskiver. Really the very cutest breakfast (or dinner), as I always say.
And soft, stripy pajamas.
Children's voices in the orchard
Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:
Golden head, crimson head,
Between the green tip and the root.
Black wing, brown wing, hover over;
Twenty years and the spring is over;
To-day grieves, to-morrow grieves,
Cover me over, light-in-leaves;
Golden head, black wing,
Cling, swing,
Spring, sing,
Swing up into the apple-tree.
--T.S. Eliot
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Happy children (I want those pjs, too). Happy house. A spirit you could cut with a knife, if such a thing can be said. Your penguin has set the Facebook world buzzing, thank you L. Randle. Suddenly, the season has blossomed.
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