After I awoke, I cast a quick glance through the curtains and thought I saw a ray reflect off the slide and briefly illuminate a sparrow returning home with gifts as the cool December breeze sauntered by with soothing sentiments of May. I coaxed the sleep out of my eyes and focused my vision. We had a bed of coals still resting in the fireplace upon which we had cooked the previous evening's dinner; while their residual heat continued to layer the living room with warmth I proceeded to think in verse while gathering kindling:

Twigs and branches
water and spice
crickle-crack-crinkle
out there on the ice.

A busy day was planned and the upcoming festivities would be grand. Feasts, midnight meetings, cousins arriving, boots tied, presents. There was breakfast waiting in the kitchen while the baseboard heaters ignited their ethereal electric hum and I noticed two sets of deer tracks running between the lodges. Lisa had finished puttering and was checking the mail at the end of the lane, no doubt energized by the generous dollop of honey she had placed within her mug of chai tea. I chose my green and red scarf, broncos gloves, and midnight blue tuque to block the cold while proceeding to chop wood. Pinecones adorned the pile like providential heralds of the upcoming summer and a red squirrel twittered in the distance while I began to work.