There’s something utterly delightful about this weather. Happens in the fall. By the the spring time, I’m so ready for hot, it’s not as noticeable.
Flannel pajamas at night and shorts in the day.
That isn’t the part that marks this as Venus Retrograde time, no, that’s not the sticking point. What I do miss is my old cat. Cold winter morning, she’d curl up in the small of my back, or crook of a leg, her massive size generating and radiating warmth. I’d stir to get up, she’d look at me with a rheumy eye, do a very lamentable and pitiful ‘meow,’ and make eye contact with a clear message, ‘don’t move.’
If I didn’t move, there’d would sometimes be her loud purr. She always did like having me around. Or so she implied. Probably because I got in the habit of feeding her bits of brisket. Spoiled, but then, she did seem to appreciate that.
Cats are cute as kittens, marauding hunters in early adulthood, but truly are remarkable companions once they get to the advanced ages. That’s what I miss. Warm, furry creatures when the nights are cold. One in particular.