Here we are, at 4:35 on a frozen afternoon in Mystic, resting and reading by the fire, and listening to wonderful Celtic harp music. Cia returned a while ago from a fast 3-mile walk on the hills near us, while I returned from a fairly fast 1-mile walk around our neighborhood. Both of us, I think, were happy with our exercise accomplishments.

Cia is reading Dickens' Great Expectations, getting ready for the upcoming meeting of our book discussion group. Every so often she'll laugh or sigh over something in the pages, and occasionally she'll pause to share something with me. I've been reading mostly spiritual-type books lately, and every so often I'll share with her something from one of the books. Ah, the joys of having a loved one to share our beloved books with!

We've been experimenting with keeping the thermostat in the house down to 65 during the day, and 57 at night -- and it seems to be working out quite well. I'm dressing in extra layers and wearing a cap on my bare head, while Cia is wearing heavier sweaters. At night, we pile the covers on and dream the cold away.

Cia's fridge poem for today:

and mine . . .