On this Saturday afternoon:
The house is filled with the sound of Emma humming upstairs and the smell of beef stew cooking while we wait for the bread to rise for an early dinner.
There is menu planning for the upcoming week, plan making, to do lists and schedules being thought out.
There is research being done for Sunday night dessert, probably Profiteroles since I declared to my family that this would be the year of french cooking which I apparently declared last year too, but which in fact, became the year of bread baking instead. Poor, poor family.
There are original episodes of Sherlock Holmes being watched, flannel pj's making an early appearance and snoring cats curled up in various spots around the family room creating a chorus that leads me to believe that maybe three cats really is too many. But not really.
There is also a napping husband who apparently was dreaming of stew and thick chunks of homemade bread, smeared with butter because when he woke up feeling so cozy, he looked at me with love and thanked me for being a wonderful provider to my family which in turn made me feel cozy and full of love, and also like the work in the kitchen, which I really didn't feel like doing, was actually worth it. I love when my people can feel my love shining through a meal.
I think there is something to enjoy about every season and on this Saturday afternoon, there are no shortage of things to love.