A Gentle Hum

It begins with a 'click' and from the far side of my house, our propane furnace kicks into action.  Often, that's my signal to get up from wherever I am - if I'm already sitting down - and to find a nice, cozy bit of carpet or linoleum, just beside a heater vent.  The hum of warm air that follows, rising through the vents, is usually accompanied by a soft metallic 'clang, clang, clang.'  That's partially due to the fact that someone has discovered that not all of the vent misers are attached to the floor, and that the holes she exposes by removing them are great for stowing her favorite toys, such as padlocks, pens and socks.  Consequently, bits and pieces have begun to go missing, leaving some remaining parts loose.  The passing air easily rattles them.

Ben says that we should get the grates fixed so that the sound will go away.  He's begun to devise clever ways of stilling the flaps on his own.  I don't think I would mind the absence of the noise, but I don't mind its presence either.  I love to be warm in the winter.  Who doesn't, right?  And the sound of the miser flaps clapping to the warm air has begun to register in my mind as a comfort, just like warm milk, favorite songs, a familiar sweater, or the heat itself.

I had to take a moment, earlier today, to remind myself that the end of November doesn't have to mean the end of giving thanks.  In fact, it really shouldn't.  The wintry cold hit our house the week after Thanksgiving, whereas before it had been pretty mild.  If we had come so far south hoping to escape frigid winters, we would be feeling sorely disappointed right now.  And although I was grateful for those vents - a luxury we didn't enjoy in our last home - and for the heat that comes up through them a week ago, I feel doubly so now.