Where do you go

when it's cold inside?

Quite the opposite question would apply for today, as I awoke to the quintessential Minnesota Morning: a shroud of soft snow blanketing the world below, flecks of silver swirling past my window, and the soothing hum of our furnace, as if our apartment was sighing as it settled in for another of what Laura Ingalls Wilder might call a Long Winter.

Despite the white tendrils of winter worming their way through the city streets, my wife and I ran some errands in our trusty 1998 Corolla named William, after his fearless Scottish forebear, but not before breaking our nightly fast with two servings of another Minnesota staple: the piping hot bowl of oatmeal, ours with apples and raisins. We made our way to several stores in the afternoon, thus earning whatever downtime we had in the evening. And wisely did we spent it, I might add, putting up our tree and trimming it with an assortment of lights, ornaments, and odd knickknackery from our childhoods. Nothing says December like a Christmas tree.

My cousin and her boyfriend were over last night, and we had a delightful time at Applebees followed by a trip to the Roseville 4 second-run theatre to catch one of the most delightful and simply entertaining movies I have seen in a long while: Ratatouille. We followed this with several rounds of Rayman Raving Rabbids and a healthy dose of good old-fashioned conversation--a lost art, perhaps, but one I still enjoy practicing.

As I write this, the room around me glowing with the soft feathery light from our tree, complemented by a shimmer from the modern-day equivalent of a button lamp, the scented candle, I think of the months ahead which will, sans doute, be filled with snow and cold, and dwell not on the cold and darkness, but on the coziness that being indoors can bring during such times. I also think of December 21, and the extra minute of daylight that each day in January brings. I think of being back in Lincoln in a shade under three weeks, and in Montana soon after. I think of a Christmas spent in the company of family and friends. I think of Moses Merrill near the end of January, the melting of snow, the green of spring, and the turning and revolving of the world ever after.

It's gonna be a good winter.