The stars on a cold clear night sure seem big and bright, and closer, too. As if they were just over the treetops. And last night as I left a friend’s house in the chill of the evening, I could see Orion’s belt, clear as day, and it felt as though I could reach up and unbuckle it, and as I drove through the dark, I surprised the moon resting on a hilltop, taking a break before it continued its journey into the night of a December sky.

I’m back in the saddle so to speak. Yesterday, I finished the repairs to a fence I started several weeks ago. I got the old sections securely tied to the new poles, and now we’re right as rain.

It’s a clear, cold morning. The sort of morning that makes me wish for a fire. But my fireplace doesn’t draw. A construction oversight left us with a firebox that is too small. My bad.

Digging postholes. I’ve done it all my life to varying degrees of success. As a new homeowner in the 70s one of the first things I did was put up a fence, for privacy in my yard.

If life consists of small victories, then I achieved one yesterday. A victory so small as to go unnoticed by anyone but me, and you, now that I’m telling the tale.

I dug out another old posthole yesterday. This one had the complication of being right beside a second old posthole. So, there were two blobs of concrete and rotted timber. Talk about hard.

Spent a few chill hours on the golf course yesterday. We got around in under four hours, which is how the game of golf is meant to be played. My score was high because my putting and chipping was it’s usual unglamorous self.

Some mornings I wake up and my words are right there in bed beside me. Then on some mornings, I find them sitting comfortably on the couch or hanging around the coffee maker.

The mornings of cold and brisk are at hand. It feels good when I step outside to feed the cats. And it’s really nice when I need to do some work during the day. And there is still work to do, particularly on the little shed.

The Thanksgiving feast is over. I spent the day with friends and their families. It was fun and good company. Now I am home. The house is quiet. There are no decorations for Christmas this year.

I seem to be hell bent on examining the limits of my body’s performance capabilities. Yesterday I discovered when tightening a pipe clamp that I could exert too much force on my thumb and that the joint was weak point.

Lost track of my joy yesterday. Don’t know where I put it. It disappeared somewhere around mid-morning.

The tin roof is on, four sheets. There is nary a shimmy to be found. The little shed feels sturdy. Now it’s on to the finishing work.

The first of the four roof tins is in place. It took me a while. First of all, I realized I needed additional lumber for the rafters. More feels better and secure. Then I had to overcome an earlier mistake which came about because I got ahead of myself.

I watched my little bird go to bed last night. It landed on the birdbath. Surveyed its surroundings. Then flitted up to its little notch at the top of the cedar porch pole and settled in for the night.

I like going into my back lots at night and looking at the stars. It’s dark in the lots and we’re still country enough that light pollution is at a minimum. So, the night sky is starlit. I also like checking in on my little porch bird, huddled up at the top of its pole, sound asleep.

The pump house is coming along. It turns out I have more tin than I imagined. Plus, I’m making do with what I have so, old fence slats are filling in where needed.

It feels odd to be writing about small things when there’s a big thing happening right down the road, but this big thing isn’t a personal tale like my other big things. Those were peculiar to me but relatable, an illness in the family, a death, things we all suffer.

An only upside in failing to sleep through the night is being able to walk out onto my porch and look at the pasture behind my house in the light of a nearly full moon. It’s a bonus when the temperature is in the 40s and there’s no breeze.

It’s a cold crisp morning in the Hill Country. The air is clear, not a cloud in the sky. The presidential election didn’t go my way, but the sun has come up every morning since and gone down as well. I’m disappointed, but it isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.