"Winter Memory"

Winter Memory

The muffled echo of the roosters crow

just before the sun rose o'er the hill,

A snapping beam, a sudden thud of snow,

And morning crept across the needled chill

Of wintry night; from valley chimneys rose

White plumes of smoke, inside bright fires glowed

Through open draughts, while from the kettles nose

A billowing singing steam cloud flowed.

The iron griddle soon browned bubbling cakes

The red checkered cloth upon the table spread

Sill in my heart an old-time song awakes,

And pictures from a time long since fled.

The old black stove and its rosy embers,

Sweet woodsmoke, a plant upon the sill,

The cozy warmth and peace my heart remembers,

The old clock's steady tick, the lovely thrill

A rainbow lights through icicles reflected,

And warm new milk within an earthen mug. . .

No farther than these walls my thoughts deflected,

Contented as the curled cat on the rug.

~Ruth B. Field~

By the end of summer here in the heat of North Texas, I start dreaming about winter. Of the smell of wood stove smoke, and soup simmering all day long on the wood stove. I think about the cold air of morning when the stove is cold after a long nights sleep. Of the joyful moments spent sitting at my spinning wheel, wool all around me. I dream of needing a sweater and having my feet toasty warm in thick wool socks. This morning as I was reading through a book of poems I came across this little poem about winter memories and oh how it touched my heart. It spoke exactly of what my winter morning are so often like. I have no desire to rush time but I sure wouldn't mind if summer decided it was time to leave this part of the country and head south.