I am taking a brief timeout while I wait to see if my first fire (in the wood-burning chamber of the furnace) has caught or not. I lack the magic touch of my brother-in-law who, seemingly, possesses the ability to start a roaring conflagration with the flick of a wrist or a twitch of the nose — or some such magic that eludes me. I do my best to place the logs just so and use approximately fourteen editions of the Saturday Star as fire-starter, but the wood always struggles valiantly against my best efforts. Once it does get going, however, it amazes me how much heat a few logs can generate.
Meanwhile, the Outdoor Christmas Card yet endures. Snow still blankets the trees in its glory. When we went for our first snowshoe-walk in the woods today, we were awestruck by the beauty and snapped our cameras with reckless abandon. Out of deference to dialup bloggers, I resist the urge to show the lot and must content myself with the two that are now on your screen.
The afternoon begins to wane, so I must finish my apple-cinnamon tea, check the fire, and don my snowshoes for another little walkabout before the night closes us in.