THINK MINK!

I sit here at the computer visualizing you as a Lincolnville chipmunk curled up in a tight ball waiting for spring. It's coming! I can also visualize that "heavy coat" cloaking your being. Try, even though I suspicion you are a rabid save the fur and feathered, visualizing that coat as mink - soft, warm, glowing the unique color that only nature makes. I bet there are a few dozen little creatures who would sacrifice themselves on your behalf . I know a dozen or so rabbits in Mr. MacGregor's garden who would gladly step up to the plate. Actually, maybe a nice, new Maxmara wool coat is a better idea. Wool is renewable.

I have often wondered how sheep feel after they are shorn. Damn, I'll bet it's a bit brisk! I mean, really, how would you like to saunter into a pasture some morning, the mist still lying in the valley, the sun barely peeping above the trees. There is Farmer Frank over by the fence, with faithful dog, Nip, at his side. A bird twitters in the apple tree branches that bend over the old stone wall. A bee buzzes nearby. It is a lazy, soft day, a good day for grazing. All of a sudden all hell breaks loose. You are attacked by Nip, thrown to the ground and pinned down by Farmer Frank and a wave of cold air creeps along your body as your personal blanket is deftly removed on one side and then the other. You struggle to your feet, your privates exposed, and the ice age has returned in a flash. You are naked for all the birds and bees to see. All this for a Maxmara wool coat?! Someday soon, when you next see Alexis, get her to describe her trip to Scotland with Christopher. It was a very merry excursion which included stopping by the road to watch Farmer Frank do his thing, only he asked Chris to help. I guarantee you will be rolling in the aisle!