Colding

Happily what I thought was an approaching virus cold isn't, however, the outside cold seems to be galloping in from Canadia. Bundle up, kiddies! It's freezing out there and it's gonna get worse.

I am zooming along on Herman's story. Yesterday I whizzed past the 3k word mark, deciding it's easier to chop words than to try to limit myself at this stage. Reader's Digest does it all the time, why can't I?

January 10--Camille Pissarro Chestnut Trees at Louveciennes. How long must we stand here in the snow? Can he please just get on with it? My socks are wet and my feet are freezing. Maman holds my hand so tight in hers that I can feel the tendons in her fingers strain to keep still. Papa insisted that we dress in red and black and come out to stand in front of the house and its naked trees. Even Fydeau, our dog, laying at Maman's feet with its red bow and permanent fur coat shivers. I don't know how it knows to keep still but even though it shakes and whimpers it doesn't move. My left arm is numb. I have to hold Maman's hand and all the blood has drained from it. You'd think that I would have no feeling in it but I do. I feel both numb and pain. I don't understand it either. If I turn my head to the left just a bit I can see the gate into the yard, and I can smell the warm fire that I know burns in the kitchen hearth. I can almost smell the hot cocoa that Marie makes for afternoon tea. Maybe Papa will smell it too and stop painting before we freeze.

Stay warm!
--Barbara