The magic happened today.

Previous snowfalls this season have been wet or unpleasant or insignificant. This morning I looked out the window at the pine trees as white flakes swirled down. It seemed magical, perhaps because I was in my warm house with a cat on my lap and didn’t have to go anywhere. The house and garden are buttoned up, and I’ve almost finished assembling my storm kit: camp stove and fuel, water, batteries, cash, gas in the tank. The oil lamps are always ready to be lit. The sweaters and hats have been in use for some time now. The winter boots are near at hand, and it’s almost time to get out the big green parka for snowmobiling.

I had a fine day baking two kinds of rolls for the Thanksgiving feast. There are flannel sheets on the bed. Birds are coming to the feeder. A stack of library books awaits. A candle is lit. Four weeks until the winter solstice.

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