Finally the weather matches the season, but only for a few days.  The sleet peppers the metal roof and the winds howl across the wood stove pipe from which smoke mixes with the cold night air.  Inside my bare feet dangle from beneath a blanket as they rest upon a  kicked back old and almost worn out green La-Z-Boy chair.  It's difficult to tell it's green though, its outline barely visible in the warm glow coming from within the old wood stove.

Many friends and family have passed through this cabin I choose to reside within and to write from over the years.  Many have heard the chugging roar of the potbelly stove that if you're not careful will have you opening up doors and windows to balance cold air with the heat.

Except for the currently running motor on the fridge that has decided to turn on, there is a peacefulness to this moment.  I should probably be sleeping but I think I would rather stay up a while and enjoy the comfort of the fire in the background.  

Outside of the light reflecting off of my glasses from the smartphone screen I am tapping on and the glow of the fire, I can't see a thing.  

I remember the hustle and bustle of city life.  The routine, the late night and early morning working hours.  The sometimes cant slow down and get a wink of sleep nights.  They were different than the nights I spend tending the fire now.  Not keeping the fire tended means broken pipes and cold feet on nights like this.

After many years of finally being able to get city living out of my system, I am thankful for the rural life I now lead.   There are still routines but they are mostly my routines and there is something to be said for that.

I don't know how long it will last as more people move out into this area. As water districts are formed to protect and eventually perhaps regulate water wells and waste companies begin to make it so that you have to pay them to pick up the trash regularly.  Pump jacks or drilling rigs can be heard in the not so distant distance most hours of calm days.  On weekends, during hunting season, people seem to enjoy shooting their guns a lot, I see now how annoying that can be.  I too once shot a lot of bullets into targets during my younger years on this land.  It must have really annoyed the neighbors though the closest was a mile away.

The refrigerator motor has cut off and the coyotes can be heard howling like the wind, although the wind has slowed a bit and the sleet has stopped.  The fire still burns within the stove and I  yawn.  Perhaps it's time to go back to sleep and dream of a light snow while there is time left to do so.