Somehow a week has passed, and here I am, writing once again, the morning sunlight pouring in. Outside, my husband and the kids work in one of our outbuildings, warmed by a cozy fire in the wood stove. It feels truly and finally like winter ought to feel — bitter cold, a tad dreary, devoid of color, but full of quiet, the hush of frost covering the fields and draws.
I say, “somehow a week has…