I've just returned home from a 75 minute walk with my dog, Jonah. Instead of going to Snug Harbor, which is across the street from my house, I decided to walk a bit further - to Silver Lakes Park - and let Jonah loose in the dog park there. I did not check the weather or temperature outside before we left, but I knew pretty quickly that it was really, really cold out. (I've just learned, upon returning, that it was 27, but with the windchill, "feels like 13." Yes, indeed, it did. We had a beautiful walk, though, and while my glasses are still fogged up and my fingers have not quite thawed out, I'm glad we went. We both needed the exercise and fresh air.

I decided this morning that I would pack up all my Christmas decorations this afternoon, so in a little bit that's what I'm going to do. When we got in from our walk, I carried the empty Christmas boxes upstairs to my apartment from my storage area on the first floor, and, once again, am thinking of my grandmother, Alice Biscomb, and how much I miss her. I miss her at times throughout the year, but especially at Christmas, because I inherited many of my most beloved decorations from her, including my manger scene.