The sunset seems early today. Closing the curtains on the dark, we settle in for the evening. Crochet hook at the ready, nimble fingers create another snowflake, while outside the frost forms. Inside the log fire blazes. We sit in the warmth. Toast for tea. I stab the slice of bread on the fork and hold it close to the fire. Gradually it browns. My face starts to glow in sympathy as I sit close to the flames. Turn the bread over. This task cannot be hurried. Slowly cook the other side. Remove from the toasting fork. Slather with butter. And eat. Bliss.