Other November Mornings

The wind is blowing and the sun is shining but its only 38 degrees. Not really as warm as it looks out there.
I sit here thinking of other November days and thinking of the snow-covered ground of my small mountain home. The promise of a long wait to see the ground again, and cold days of sparkly white fill my head. Was it really that beautiful? Or are my memories warped by the years that have gone by?

" The quiet mornings with all sound muffled by the cold soft blanket of new snow is broken by the crunch of boots as dad takes his old coffee can with the ragged, wadded undershirt in it out and soaks it in diesel fuel and puts a lit match to it to slide under the engine of his pickup to let it warm up enough to get it started. Then the lighter sound of mom taking him a cup of coffee so that he can drink to help warm him while he stays out there and tends his tiny blaze. Soon she will have to get us out of our warm beds and the magic of the quiet morning will be gone. Five hungry kids can spoil things like that. "

"Don't try this now-a-days, there are to many parts of a motor that are flamible."