This winter has been all color and richness: quiet celebrations of time and love, creative plans for my careful hands, delicious afternoon sleep and slow-cooked scrambled eggs.

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I ride my rusty bicycle along the river on my way to work. After ten minutes, I heat up under my jacket and the cold feels good on my smile.

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I’ve chosen the palette for my first quilt, though I can hardly sew a straight line.

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And then there’s this guy. Six months since we took him in and he’s finally warmed up to us.

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The word of the season is contentment.