Winter night

Last night was decidedly cold and I was decidedly sleepy, so I decided to throw an extra quilt on the bed and crawl under it at an early hour. That was a good decision.

It's decidedly cold again tonight.

This evening on my Kindle I finished a novel called Housekeeping, by Marilynne Robinson. I chose it because the author wrote a lovely novel called Gilead and a fine companion novel called Home. Although Housekeeping is good literature, I did not enjoy it as much as the other two. It was a downer for me. It put me into the mind of a sad, lonely person in unfortunate life circumstances. I wanted a happier, more hopeful resolution than I got. I can recommend the book as well-written (although I'll admit I skipped some descriptive passages) but not as likely to lift your spirits.



Gilead, on the other hand, will make you feel that you are a better person for having read it, and Home is satisfying.

Now it's time for me to crawl under that extra quilt again. My hair is wet. I may wrap it loosely in a towel to keep my head warm. "Mamma in her kerchief ... settled down for a long winter's nap" ('Twas the Night Before Christmas).