Finally I roused myself from the comfort of my little house on C street, from the sleepyness brought on by a good meal of beans and rice, and from the safe glow of the TV to go for a walk on this strangely warm evening in late February.

Originally planning only to take a slight detour on my way to the campus to use the internet I managed to walk pretty much around the town. From one end to the other, in a somewhat rectangular path.

There was quite a strong smell of wood smoke in the air, as it was warm, but not so warm that one wouldn't desire the crackle of a fireplace. For myself I know that I have never had such a good time just sitting and reading as when I was sitting in front of a warm fire, tending it, keeping it going all afternoon and into the evening. I remember a couple of years ago sitting in front of the fire for an entire day reading Thoreau's Maine Woods; reading almost the whole book in two days. All simply because of the sense given by the fire. A desire to remain still.