A Fireside Carol

The wind outside begins to wail, a snowstorm rattles roof and rail. But here within, all calm and clear, I sit beside the fire’s cheer. My beagle curls up at my feet, his steady breath, a rhythmic beat. The flames dance low in amber light, against the hush of winter’s night. With A Christmas Carol in my hand, I drift through Scrooge’s ghostly land - past Marley’s chains and Tiny Tim, each page a world, both bright and grim. Outside, the world is lost in white, but in this room, the heart feels light. No finer joy could I have planned than Dic…

The Winter House