Of Janitors, Postal Workers, Bears, & Pies

Dawn in the November woods reminds me of what Emerson said, “I like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching.”

There is magic in the first snowfall of the season. Even if it comes, as it is now, with a mix with fat drops of cold rain. This little tempest will pass in the next hour or so, but it's a delight to see a hint of what is to come.

At this age, I prefer my snow before the holidays, when it whispers of childhood, and each flake falls with the weight of nostalgia.

Earlier today, I wrote to a friend about how much I'll miss the winter snow when we are on the road. It can begin to feel oppressive and tedious by February, making us wonder if winter will ever end. But I do so love the idea of being 'snowed-in' for a day as the plows scrape the road in front of our house, bringing memories of childhood snow days. When we hit the road, I'll forfeit the season of homebound coziness and my favorite season in my kitchen.

It's one of the reasons we're not head…