Driving home from a warm visit with good friends in Bell Buckle, I feel winter set it: the chill, the wind, the spitting rain, the gray sky.Turning to take the slow road through Roark's Cove, I glimpse Sewanee in what a brother calls the "saddle" atop the plateau. There I know my warm house, hot tea, bath, and flannel pants wait.
On this wintry day, I am glad to head home.
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