hearth

There is nothing more comforting that one's own hearth. As winter closes in and the introspection begins, the all embracing warmth of a hearth is a comfort that no electrrical applicance can mimic.

How is it possible that such a heat can be soft?

How is it that the sound, smell and sight of a hearth conjures memories so distant, one loses a grip on the now?

There is something primal about staring into the flames and seeing your past, present and future.

I love winter.