Cold weather, wind blowing, leaves falling like snow.
Chicken is simmering on the stove, filling the air with its fragrance.
We are sitting in front of the fire, toasting our toes, and looking at the lake through the window.
Quilts are on the beds.
Warm houseshoes have been found where they were hiding in the depths of the closet, and sweats, warm, cozy, comfortable, are the attire of the day.
Clouds blow across the sky, with patches of blue sky and sunshine peeking through now and then.
The pantry is full; the freezer is stocked.
The harvest is gathered in.
Our hearts are filled with thanksgiving.