December 1, 2001
A day out of time: the warm air, pure blue sky, dazzling sunshine do not belong to December, but to June. I should work in the garden, but instead I wander the shops of a neighboring village. I'm limp and exhausted from a late night, not alcohol, dancing in the wrong shoes. I find unexpected treasures at the bookstore, an academic tome on Samhain and one simply titled, "Kitchen Witch". This will drve me to makover the one room in my house that is fundamentally flawed. Reading on the porch, I drink up the last fine day of the year.