The morning is dark and gray. A silent, shivery mist hovers among the trees, settling onto the ground, bringing back the cold of winter. I pour my first cup of Folgers and ask Nemo if he’d like a cup, but he declines. He will come and sit with me while I write, but he draws the line at sharing morning coffee.
A squirrel bounds across the yard. They are into building nests. How do I know? Because one of them (surely not Edgar Allan) has shredded the padding on my porch swing, pulling out wads of white stuffing. I admit they look funny, dashing for the safety of a tree, Nemo in hot pursuit, with a mouthful of fiberfill, but some of their habits are not amusing. For example, chewing and shredding and generally being a nuisance.
Some parts of our great land are getting torrential rain, others are being blanketed with snow. Still other, more southern parts are basking in sunshine. Here, in NW Arkansas, it is definitely a “snuggle under an afghan, book and coffee close at hand” kind of day. But then, any day is a good day for a cozy mystery.
Manos Mysteries
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