Excerpt: The Hearth Within

In the early morning light as she shivered after retreating from the veranda, she felt a surge of joy and inspiration. She took some logs of wood and went to stoke the oven, savoring its smell and the smoky fragrance that filled the room. She took water from a large barrel by the door and filled the kettle. She placed it in the belly of the oven where the flames from the newly kindled fire would soon heat it and bring it to a boil. Then she would drink the good strong coffee she so enjoyed every morning. She no longer made coffee for her husband.

She pulled on jeans and a sweater, warm boots and jacket, and headed out for her morning walk. In the summer she would take a dip every morning in the river that ran close by. A path from the house led to a small footbridge which spanned a slow-flowing river. It would really only become a river further downstream, here close to the house it was much more modest, not very wide, but deep enough to enter up to her neck. On the other side of the footbridge there was a sandy pebbly stretch without bushes and undergrowth that made for easy access to the water. The water was dark brown in color and immediately gathered depth, flowing in whorls and eddies. A little further, past all the trees and bushes, it opened out into what could be described as a large pond. Reeds grew all around its circumference, immediately hugged by a wooded area. She crossed the footbridge and took the path in the other direction, uphill, away from the pond, up sandy tracks through tall slender red-barked pines to higher ground that led to the village. A light layer of snow lay underfoot and the sky through the tops of the trees was turning lighter and bluer. Wisps of mist and cloud were evaporating, leaving the air sharp and crisp. It would be a sunny day. From the top of the hill a magnificent view opened up, revealing the glistening meandering course of the river as it widened and became shallower with broad stony areas along its banks. She could reach those parts by taking the path into the village and then heading out east along the dirt road and down through the trees. But for now she was content to take the more secluded sandy tracks that wound through the pine and birch trees closer to home. The air nipped at her cheeks and nose, but it was not really cold yet. It was the beginning of November, the nights were already longer and the approach of winter unmistakable and poignant, but there was still time before the really cold weather set in.

Smoke curled from the chimney of her little cottage. She could see it as she walked briskly back down through the trees to her home path. It welcomed her. But her thoughts turned to the long day ahead and how she would fill her solitude.