My daughter knows that it doesn’t pay to leave things to the last minute; any stress, and the parents start with sarcastic comments and yelling.  So, hoping to get an early start on Christmas, yesterday she organised a wreath- and gingerbread-making evening.  We made four wreaths of about 40 cm diameter and listened to carols.  I figured that if we continued for a week we could sell them for enough money that we wouldn’t have to work next year at all, practically; but nobody cared.  The rose hips come from the garden and the sprigs of Christmas tree come from the pile down the road.

When we woke up, this had happened during the night:

Myself, I’m not a big fan of snø.  I like it when it hangs in the branches, though that lasts for about five minutes.  My daughter and the dogs were delighted.

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