Crisp October Morning

Chilly air seeped through the open windows before dawn, making it almost impossible to drag myself out from under the downy covers. The cool air making noses cold within the walls of the house. Last night it seemed so right to leave windows open, but now, we second guessed that decision.
In no time at all the fire glowed in the stove, casting copper shadows on the shiny wooden floor. Soon a bubbling pot of oatmeal was cooking on the stove, raisins and cinnamon added in, making the house fill up with good morning smells that make a soul feel very hungry.
The wind is still blowing cold from the north. The sky a solid covering of gray flannel clouds.
With Emery off to work, the morning mine, folding clothes that did not dry on the line last night so were brought inside and hung off the pegs on the wall that usually hold sweaters and hats. Morning chores done, a bit of time for some tea and spinning. My old wheel needs some attention. I busy myself with looking at what it needs to work again. All the while my mind fills with visions of what this old wheel has seen and about the hands that held wool for a families needs so long ago. The fire crackles, making me glad I left the door open. Cooking done, the fire now is more for atmosphere than work. The room toasty warm. The front of me, facing the fire as I sit with basket next to me filled with delicious looking wool, is warm, almost hot, but the back of me, chilly. The nature of a fire, warms one side at a time. We need rotating chairs I think. Perfect day for gingerbread men making and bread baking.
This crisp October morning is simply perfect in every way.