A cozy fire in the stove, early morning lamp light now extinguished, replaced by sunlight streaming in naked windows. North wind blowing, the wind chimes. Baskets of wool beside me, spinning wheel humming. Contentment in knowing today's main meal is all prepared. Mashed sweet potatoes, kale salad, and a nut loaf. Dessert made too, a raw chocolate coconut tart. Beside my chair, in the window sill sits a piping hot mug of Chai Tea. Steam swirling up from the hand thrown mug with a dragonfly on it, a gift from the dearest of friends. Incense burning on the hearth. Feet warm against the cold floor, thick wool socks up to my knees. Emery is outside raking the garden, the sunshine calling to him. Even though its 29 F outside, with a wind chill of 20, he has garden fever already. Over breakfast he shared with me his plans to till the garden once today, his eyes twinkling as he talked, excited to play in the dirt. I watched his hands for a bit while we ate, farmers hands, strong and full of big veins. He has worked hard from the time he was a small boy. Often running the tractor before he went to school. Getting on the bus each morning with a couple dozen other farm children, all the same, farm chores before school. Milking cows and feeding stock. Today, that same work ethic alive and well with him. Never an idle moment. Just sitting here thinking about him, makes my love for him grow, which already is so vast and so deep that its hard to imagine there is any more room for it to grow, but it does, every day. The fire needs tending, the tea needs drinking and the wool needs spinning, so off I go.