Waiting for wassailing weather

Earlier this week it was in the 70s. Like, the upper 70s. Raking, clearing off the garden and hanging new twinkle lights was hot, sweaty work.

Here's the evidence.

Remember, it's November. And I really shouldn't be complaining. Ethel tells me that I should be enjoying any warm, sunny weather I can get considering what's in store until March. Or, if next year is anything like this year's spring was, late April. I still shudder to think of that interminable dark, cold, bleakness.

And I know Ethel's right. But this week, it was just so hard to sit in the living room with the windows open, barefoot, a fan running and rehearse music for the holiday concert. No matter how many candles I lit, I couldn't get into the mood for playing "That Night in Bethlehem" or "Christmas Eve Air." Sure, I played the notes, but there was just no FEELING the music. And I was getting alarmed.

Because we're at 24 days and counting until concert day.
Seems that "driving the cold winter away" is working, anyway.

Martha, Marti and I rehearsed last night and their cheerful attitudes and senses of humor helped. It's magical to hear them play my arrangements for the first time, always better than the way it sounds in my head. Because the girls are just that good. It was exactly the moral support I needed. Martha smiled and Marti said "oh!" and put her hand to her heart when I sang them the opening song. They loved the new pieces and were so excited to be learning them. It almost made me forget that it felt more like late August than early November.

So imagine my happiness when I woke up to this today:
a world kissed with snow,
every branch and blade of grass covered
in fluffy white.

Back to the harps with new-found enthusiasm for songs about cold, starry nights and wassailing.

Just please don't remind me about this happiness come March...