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.
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.
I’ve chosen the palette for my first quilt, though I can hardly sew a straight line.
And then there’s this guy. Six months since we took him in and he’s finally warmed up to us.
The word of the season is contentment.