We heat our home with wood, so wintertime sees us spending most of our house-hours in the room with the wood stove.
A squat, broad thing with a glass front door, it looks like a little fire-bellied Buddha, spreading enlightenment in the form of warmth.
And we flock to it--after skiing or shoveling the driveway, after work, after showers when we're dripping and wrapped in towels and hopping from foot to foot. We soak in the heat and the light of it, warming our skin and our blood and our bones, and slowly, eventually, feeling human again.
There are certain things that always make me happy, that make me smile from the inside out; sitting by a fire in our stove is one such thing.
We all have them--these little sources of unconditional joy--but they're so different from one person to the next..my own husband would surely die of boredom in my own perfectly constructed Happyland. Although, I suppose he'd like the puppies.
Sitting here with a sleepy dog at my feet, the fire-bellied Buddha warm, the storm gathering and growing outside (the newspaper actually warned against "Thundersnow"), I'm grateful for everything around me, and:
Fabric Bunting and Garlands