IN A CLOUD OF DUST

…(they) shed their wet outer gear and hung it up to dry on a wooden rack by the fire, Mom and I scurried around the kitchen dishing up steaming bowls of stew. Food never tasted so good as when you could call it a day and stay in for the long winter night ahead. On those nights, when frost kissed the window panes and an icy moon rose over the frigid prairie landscape, we were grateful for a warm house heated, in large part, by the trusty wood stove in the basement and all those armloads of wood hauled in at dusk.”