Snow fills the air and blankets the ground, blankets the hound, the home, the piles of round logs waiting to warm us, ready to be fed to the fire, fodder for the heady warmth seeping into our clothes, our hands, our cherry faces; those snow-packed gloves, scarves, coats leaking water on the hearth. Piney scents fill the room until the essential vapors of cocoa chase it out of my nose, warm creamy steam enticing me to drink even though the cup in my hands tells me my tongue is in for a scalding…