I’m surrounded by our big linen-covered cushions, sitting curled up on the couch.
It’s late and the cold outside hasn’t found its way in tonight. Four warm hearts are sitting around our table playing Dungeons and Dragons, making happy noise with their adventures and loud snacking on Doritos.
I’m listening to Jack Johnson in the next room while my big yellow candle and its three long wicks make dancing shadows on the wall. My eyes are heavy and my mind is wandering – dreaming about this blog, my job, poetry and how I’ll curl my hair tomorrow. It’s so warm and soft right here in my nook and I’m realising I don’t hate winter as much as I thought. The chill seems to make room for more hugs, cosy nights, misty mornings and thick wooly socks.
I wonder whether the peonies my friend gave me today will open fully before they wilt. Fuchsia on the sill looks a little funny in this drab weather but I’m so grateful for little pops of colour appearing when it’s so easy to feel grey.