Framed by frosted windowpanes, snowflakes waft gently down to earth, hushing the harsh sounds that intrude upon one’s solitude. All that is left is the sizzle of a waning fire, the cat’s gentle purr, and the whistle of the tea kettle announcing afternoon refreshment. With Jane Austen as a worthy companion, day fades into evening and a bit of old-fashioned fun at the game table. But soon, drowsy eyes begin to flutter, and it’s off to bed, where dreams await beneath layers of coziness.
“I WONDER IF THE SNOW LOVES THE TREES AND FIELDS, THAT IT KISSES THEM SO GENTLY? AND THEN IT COVERS THEM UP SNUG, YOU KNOW, WITH A WHITE QUILT; AND PERHAPS IT SAYS, ‘GO TO SLEEP, DARLINGS, TILL THE SUMMER COMES AGAIN.’”—Lewis Carroll Find our winter…
