Changing Seasons

The trees are sticks and twigs, bare of leaves; and similarly our mast and boom are sticks, bare of sails. Time to turn our thoughts away from summer pastimes and toward snuggling down with homemade soup and good books, sweaters, and holiday rituals. Rinsed the sails off yesterday, dried them and took them down, today we'll bring them up to the pavilion and fold them and tuck them into their bags to store till spring. My friend Beth posted this on my Facebook wall, it's so cute that I just had to repeat it here:

126 Days till spring we have already had snow in NY.

Squirrel's tails are very bushy, this just means we'll freeze our tushies.
Palm trees decked with Christmas lights underneath warm starry nights.
That's the stuff of which I dream - X mas in the Carribbean.
Santa's sleigh has evinrudes and lots of island attidude.
Egg nog is a desecration - good rum needs fruit based libation.
Yule logs blazing in the sand, big tall boat drinks in both hands,
Carols played on sweet steel drums and did I mention lots of rum?
Stockings hung by scuba gear - that will help my winter cheer.
The only white I want to see is sandy beach and frothy sea.