The beauty of winter is not lost when relaxing

Our house is dark on this cold November night, and by the soft glow of cheap, supermarket candles I've lit along the bookshelves, I can watch the snow fall. Every year I forget how mesmerizing it is, to just lay on the couch and follow the slow, gentle descent of white flakes outside the windows, as Gabe the dog snores at my feet, an open book resting on my stomach.

I have my husband's good bourbon, my kids' Halloween candy, and the final pages of our book club choice, Daisy Jones & The Six. Fleetwood Mac - the band my book may, or may not have been based on - is on the stereo. John, my husban...