Winter arrives

Winter is here. No, no snow yet, but a wet, cold, gray day; no blue in the sky until late afternoon.  I'm sorry that autumn is over -- it was beautiful this year.

As I began to cook dinner, I closed the curtains, turned on the lights, felt a coziness that only comes in winter.  I wish I had a fireplace. But I can't complain, I've lived in houses with fire places and have enjoyed the blazing, crackling fires. I have no fireplace now and I am not a candle using person. However, the sense of enclosure, the curtains shutting out the darkness, the smell of dinner cooking. Winter pleasure, long evenings.  Often when dinner is done and the kitchen has been put to rights, I treat myself to a hot bubble bath, sinking as deeply into the water as possible. In two of the places I've lived the tubs were old fashioned, claw footed, so deep and long I could comfortably sink down, full length with bubbles up to my chin.  How beautiful that was.  Now  my tub in a modern skimy version, put there for the likes of those who would rather take a shower -- although in summer that's what I find I want.

Still, I  love a relaxing, meditative, sweet smelling bath before I unfold the warm throw and get the book out, turn on the reading lamp, settle in for a couple or three hours of reading.  I consider it a luxury that I DO NOT HAVE A TV.  No voices and advertisements and canned laughter distracts me from a good novel or serious book.  I love it.  I finished a book last night, before I go to pour a bath, I'll go to the "to-read" book shelves and pick out the next one ... all spur of the moment.  I have a serendipity moment. Something will seem to call out, "read me next."  And I will.  I think one must live alone to have such a luxury of a winter evening.  It will be three months, at least, before the light returns at dinner time.  How nice.