The hearth stuff goes way back but nothing else feels like home in the winter than a sharing a day’s stories by a cracking fireplace. What a strange weather winter we’re having in New England. Blizzards and ice storms, then springlike sunny days and then right back into the deep freezer.

This past weekend there was an day of ice. Everything was encased, entombed even, in a few inches of a hard freeze of sparkling magical water. Then the sun came out and a walk in the woods became a stroll in a fairy forest of a million prisms. The bluest sky made it even more.

Hard to not feel hopeful when the world outside resembles a fairy tale. I always go to the story of the twelve dancing princesses. I must have had a book where they pranced and danced through the trees until they wore their slippers out. And they all lived happily after.

2022 has been a bit like 2021 on how she started, except maybe we’re all a it more tired. Mother Nature swept in to give me some really beautiful days and I just can’t feel as hopeless. Maybe it’s the goldfinch jamboree at the feeder, the bunny prints all over the yard, the slant of the sun. Somehow. Some way. Some time. It’s on the way to something new.

As I sit by a nice roaring fire this late in the week night, snuggled in, these are my thoughts. Wintering like a boss over here. Hope you are too.