I looked out the window, the trees were covered with a thick layer of story book snow.
It was clean and fresh and beautiful. A day that one could sit with a hot cup of tea and daydream story after story looking out at the fluffy marshmallow looking trees.
Warmed by the fire, watching the chick-a-dees flit from tree to tree, grabbing a seed just to fly back and peck it open, over and over again.
When the front door opened the blue jays took flight on mass startled from the feeder. The cold rushed in jarring me from my dreams and moments of pleasure.