Winter is hard, isn't it? Let's just face it, and not beat ourselves up because our winters are so much easier than those of our ancestors, or on the other hand be hard on ourselves because we're not doing what needs to be done. Winter is for hibernating, at least to the extent we can and still meet the minimum obligations of work, society and hygiene. We can't roll ourselves up in a nest of leaves like a dormouse, but we can read things that will quiet and soothe and delight us.

I would like to recommend Angela Thirkell. She will do all those things for you. Her first Barsetshire book, High Rising, is on the night table now. She is like a more gentle, realistic, feminine version of P.G. Wodehouse. She wrote about small English villages in the time before the Internet or even computers. She is funny enough to make you laugh out loud and startle the cats.

Whatever you are doing with your winter, I hope you are well and warm.