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Here: Snow up to our shins, the dogs jackrabbiting in circles, Ryan pressing himself into the ground, blowing snow and giving facewashes. My camera pressed against my eye, rapid fire, catching dogs mid-leap, and at night, the new flash with diffuser still blinding, but much less so. Still knitting, still sneaking pecan pie, still reading up late to the sounds of dog-snores, the house otherwise still. This is the kind of cozy you think of when you think of winter, though without that crackling fire in the fireplace. Instead: peppermint hot cocoa, warm breakfast, a day sprawled in front of you like a carpet unfurling, presenting itself with quiet possibilities. Simplicity too, the good sort--the kind where pleasure comes from the new potato masher, the felted mittens, the ceramic pie dish, the ribbons tied on packages. And of course, dogs bounding in the snow. As if you haven't seen enough of that already.

PS: The dogs, in case you are unfamiliar: the largest mastiff-lab mix (with the green collar) is Chance, and the smallest yellow lab mix is Sassy, both of which are Ryan's parents' dogs; ours, of course, are Penelope, the golden retriever, and Zephyr, the cartoonish black lab mix.