The smell of burning dust you get when you turn the furnace on for the first time in autumn. It always makes me want to wrap up in a blanket and sit on the couch, as though fall and winter are officially here now that I've smelled the heater.
The little gold line on a Monarch butterfly cocoon. How do caterpillars make gold? I don't know, but it's a fitting part of the magic of turning a stripy green and black worm into a big orange butterfly.
The smell of Cornhuskers lotion. My father always kept a bottle by his kitchen sink and now whenever I start to miss him particularly bad, I grab my old bottle and take a whiff.
My morning coffee, when it's the perfect temperature that I can take long satisfying gulps without burning my throat.
Turning off all the lights except the Christmas lights and sitting in the warm glow of the tree sipping hot cider.
The silent moments when an infant tries to coo but doesn't know how to make the sound come out and just ends up making whispery "heh" sounds, and then the big smile on their face when they finally find their voice.
Finding the perfect figural teapot for my collection, where the handle and spout are so well worked into the design that they're almost hidden.
The way my husband sometimes rubs my hand while we lie in bed. It's nice that when he absentmindedly fidgets, that he does it at me.
Every winter Ryan decides to make a snowman, and every single time she decides to make it HUGE, and ends up with 3 giant snowballs on the ground because she can't lift any of them to form the snowman. I like that she never gives up and she always dreams big.
A nice hot cup of Sleepytime tea, when it's just a couple degrees hotter than that comfortable and I feel lit burn down into my stomach.
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