My home is an old one with character and a charm I see more clearly when she is caped in white. The house tends to creak and groan in the winter, the hardwood floors chill underfoot, the floorboard heaters popping and clanking. This morning was cold and still, laden and muffled with the night's snowfall as I went out to clear the drive and walk. My shovel scraped through the powder and Frost's line came to mind as a lone, cold-curled leaf skittered in a soundless eddy over the snow: "The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake." The wind soon abandoned its ease for a biting drive of ice crystals, and once the driveway and sidewalk were cleared, I retreated inside to the warmth and brightness that dwells in my home. As Cicero said, "Nullus est locus domestica sede jucundior." There is no place more delightful than one's own fireside.