They are loden, lined bibs, given to me many Christmases ago from someone who loved me. They are stiff and not much to look at, but we all know appearances can deceive us. Like a trusty old friend, they embrace me as the last leaf flickers off the branch against a gray November sky. They shield me from cold, damp winds on a frosty morning when the first…
Anyone who has ever lived in an old farmhouse during the winter has a special appreciation for what it is to feel warm, inside. 🙂 In an old farmhouse, it’s about waking up to frosty windowpanes, and watching the curtains blow, ever so slightly, to the rhythm of the wind blowing in through the cracks in the casings. It’s listening to the sporadically rattling old storm windows that…
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