Karen Chisholm

As is always the way when we take a week off in Spring to get started on fire season preparations, there's an arctic blast that drives freezing cold winds through. No rain of course, but lordy it's cold out there so we all (me / him when he's not in the shed doing mysterious things, Meg the old dog, Mambo the Puppy, and Injira the new terrier, 2 hiding cats) are in front of the fire. They're snoring. I'm reading. There is red wine.

From the Blurb: