You will have to imagine this scene, for alas, there is no pic.
We ladies - Dorothy, Adeline , Martha and Jeanine - are huddled on the steps of the front porch, wrapped in an assortment of shawls and throws grabbed off of chairs, gazing heavenward. Poog has made some cinnamon rolls - oh, do they smell good in that chilly air - and we are talking of the heavens and God's glory. The bright moon slips into shadow and we are all amazed that He keeps it all in order. Flint, the dog, walks about rather nervously , whether from the unusual light or the unusual sight of his mistresses on the front porch, at night, eating rolls in the dark, I cannot tell. An occasional wisp of cloud only adds to the drama of the sight. The big dipper is to our left, all upside down and huge. Here's to fun memories of night watches on chilly nights and warm, fragrant cinnamon rolls and the heavens declaring the Glory of God.