☽❂☾

8 Feb

Here is February. Fabulous, like all winter months. But his stories are special. They are sung by a snowstorm outside the window, the wind hums and howls in the pipes, retelling them to the frozen houses. A merry fire in the fireplace picks them up and tells them with a merry crackle to curious household members on long winter evenings. These fairy tales are hidden in jars of linden tea, in albums with old photographs, in old checkered blankets and of course in books, especially magical ones, with bright vivid pictures. A blizzard draws in outside the window, and in an old book – under the roof of the house a swallow built a nest for itself, and love and kindness defeated the evil blizzard and spring came. And with it, hope. I collect these fairy tales, these magical moments. I make tea with them and I know that now I am not afraid of any cold.