After a glorious, too-brief autumn, it feels like winter. The trees, bare arms outstretched towards the sky, are mostly free of leaves. Fat, furry squirrels leap from branch to branch, chasing one another’s tails in a mad quest for the last few acorns. The sun rises later than I’d like, and sets before I’m done writing for the day. Before long, it will be the end of this year.
I’m slowly getting into holiday mode and looking for excuses to indulge. Sometimes that looks like a caramel-filled bonbon after lunch. Sometimes it might be a crisp gin martini with extra olives. Sometimes it’s a slice of pie in the afternoon. Other days it might be a rich dinner with this sweet potato gratin with mushrooms and thyme at its centre.
