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I sit by an open fire on a fine fall evening. Venus appears and the full moon shines bright behind wind-driven grey clouds. Fragrant smoke drifts into the night with scents of applewood, oak, and hickory. The whispering pines are trying to tell me something and the swaying oak branches wave in punctuation. Bright embers float on the breeze like ethereal messengers of light and hope.
Motionless, I breathe the fire and drink the night mist.
Life is very good.
Tell me sometime about your best time and place, would you?