Here, in the desert, any spout of cool brings me thoughts of winter, of Christmas, of season. I dream, long thoughtful dreams, of forest, of snow, of hibernation and change. Seclusion and visiting family, wood fires, and snow bound hounds. Warm showers, warm drinks, desserts and gifts. The smell of cinnamon and warm candles releasing every bit of your homes love into the air, and a studio so calm and quite with perfect and simple work. Focus, soft music, and sketching. Memories and books, photos and scarves. The spruce sing outside as they shake their needles of the nights blanket and tiny twinkling lights let them wear their beauty something as regal as kings and queens. A wonderland.  A winter hiding all under its sleeve as it prepares for baptizing showers of spring, of color, of light.
The sweet glisten of the sun bouncing from ice drop to snowflake and the bare trees hoping for the warmth of meeting a single ray.  The pot whistles and the scent of warm tea fills every space a shiver can think to hide-- a house becomes a home and smiles grace the faces of everyone you know to love.

Early morning kisses from my fuzzy little kid.