Cozy

I suspect everyone has their own idea of cozy.

Inglenooks are lovely for some and claustrophobic for others.

Some people want firelight and shadows. Others want rain and mist.

For me cozy is . . .

It is looking across the fields at night and seeing that old yellow light shining through the windows of farm houses.

It is walking down a street in the old part of town and imagining the families gathered within.

It is overstuffed furniture and snapping logs in a roaring fire on a cold night with a room that glows in the center and fades back into deep dark shadows.

It is the smell of burning logs and hot cocoa with deeply toasted bread drenched in butter.

The sound of rain pounding on the roof and perhaps thunder in the distance.

It is the feeling that now, in this moment and this place, all is well and all is very well, and my world is complete.

That is my idea of cozy perfection.