Home is where the hearth is and that could not be truer than
in a frigid winter. We stepped off the plane after leaving three weeks of +30
Celsius, sea breezes, soft sand and the healing warmth of a tropical sea to -16
Celsius and a harsh, biting wind. By the time we got to our home, it was – 24 Celsius.
Our bodies were traumatized.
But there is nothing like being home. It feels so good. And
that is despite the ice and snow, the shovelling, the frozen pipes, the repetitive
task of bringing in loads of firewood to feed our various wood stoves and a
fireplace, and yes the return of many aches that had slipped away in the heat
of Cuban sunshine.
