"The sky was the colour of honey. 'I love you,' he said. On the snow was a bouquet of roses. He put his arms around me. I climbed into his young chest occupying the place of his heart."
It's much too cold and dark ouside already, and perhaps one of those sun lamps Martha was talking about will help, but in the meantime I have a Peanuts Christmas to look forward to, and the smell of pine needles, and much planned baking, and fondue parties, and home made wine to consume, and lovely passages like this to stumble upon.