Two very cold nights below freezing were obvious invitations to 'Jack' who furtively slunk through the trees, climbed the fence, swished his way through piles of crisp oak leaves, bent under bird feeders - perhaps stopping to peer through the somewhat dirty windows of the potting shed - before breathing on the rosy pink camellias. He left them pale, their edges tinged in sepia brown giving them a vintage look as they bowed toward the bird bath.
Stay warm dear friends. . . . . . . . and have a wonderful Thanksgiving.