The First Fires of Fall

It's hard to imagine mid-december as fall, but one can hardly call it winter when the temperatures are still spiking in the 70s. Alas, on those few chance, frigid evenings, I relish the opportunity to light up a big blazing fire in my fireplace. Please excuse my husbands shoes in the foreground, but I love this picture...makes me wish I were right there next to him under a heavy quilt with a spiced cider in my hands.
I suppose, for honesty's sake, that I should admit I have the tendency to take things to the extreme, as evidenced by my husbands suggestion that I take a break from throwing yet another log on the fire during a 65 degree Sunday. I can't help it though. I love the smell of a real fire, the cracking, popping and hissing of the wood, and even the act of trudging out to the wood pile to grab a few more logs. There's something very comforting in it all. Especially if there's marshmallows involved. I could take or leave s'mores, but a nice charred marshmallow is hard for me to pass up. I suppose, for me, it makes home feel more like...well...home.

Happy Fall my darlings.