The snow drapes the landscape in a quiet stillness, interrupted only by the flutter of birds at the feeder. A glass of Cabernet rests in my hand as I turn the pages of my book, savoring the warmth of home. I baked cookies—not for the indulgence, but for the simple pleasure of filling the house with their sweet, comforting aroma.
The snow drapes the landscape in a quiet stillness, interrupted only by the flutter of birds at the feeder. A glass of Cabernet rests in my hand as I turn the pages of my book, savoring the warmth of home. I baked cookies—not for the indulgence, but for the simple pleasure of filling the house with their sweet, comforting aroma.
