October snow

The house has a familiar smell to it. The smell of electric heat coursing through the veins of the walls. The house is not chilly, it's holding steady at 65 degrees, but the old building has a habit of being drafty. I pull my quilt tighter around me and hold onto lovingly sewn flannel bag full of beans, microwaved for incredible warmth. My favorite part of winter.

Except its not winter. It's October. A blanket of snow fell early Friday morning, a blanket which provided little warmth. The snow hung on the green leaves of the oaks, which had yet to turn colors. And now the leaves hung in indecision. Should they simply turn brown, curl up, and fall off? Or should they hang on, and fade into weak shades of autumn?

"Arctic Temperatures Bring Record Lows" the headlines read. All I know is, I have a winter full of quilts and hot tea ahead of me.