It is dusk on a mid-November afternoon. Snow flurries are falling gently outside as the daylights fades and I have just turned on the gas fireplace here in the living room because I feel chilly. I made a mug of hot chocolate, which is on the table beside me. Also on the table is a wreath of bittersweet that I made a few days ago and, in its center, an apple cider-spiced candle which is set inside an antique glass sugar bowl. I have lit the candle and the scent of apples and spices are mingling with the chocolate.
There is only one thing which could make this scene perfect, and I dig out the case of holiday cd’s to find it. A reissue of George Winston’s December. I would normally wait until December to listen to it, but this tableau is too perfect, too wanting of appropriate music.
I bought December in 1985 or 1986 and, until 2 years ago, listened to it in cassette form. Last year, I sprung for the 20th anniversary edition and it did not disappoint. Why I had waited so long to purchase this recording in a media which did not hiss or pop, I don’t know.
I sit. Outside it is now dark, inside gorgeous seasonal piano music fills the warm, scented room.
*huge, completely contented sigh*
I want to write. I need to write. There are a stack of scribbled recipes beside me, food photos in the camera which need to be downloaded. But I cannot do it. I must listen to the music, watch the candle flame dance, and enjoy my Sunday late afternoon…
Tomorrow. I will post tomorrow. :)