I love winter. It makes everything look different. Sunlight seems bluer, cooler, harder.

Everything smells different. There's that sweet smell of pine needles in the crisp air. Things smell of pure passion and clothes hold that stiff linen scent better. Jackets hang on coat racks and are tossed on the backs of chairs and foots of beds. Skin gets ashy and pink and pale. Everyone's eyes glisten more, the cloudy skies reflected in the glaze over the whites of eyes.

Music seems to mean more when it is cold. It might just be that I'm used to playing music in winter. Arriving in my long black dress before a concert with a heavy coat over it.

My house seems more cozy at night. I can finally sit in front of a tv and watch without feeling useless. More movies are rented, just for those blistering cold nights in front of a fire with a mug of hot apple cider.

The taste of winter is more alluring. There's cinnamon and cookies and eggnog. Blankets seem warmer and softer. We begin to appreciate the more. We begin to view pillows as friends, not just things that get in the way and make us sweat. Drafty rooms feel more homey, as we sit under a blanket, watching a movie, drinking coffee. Nibbles on cookies become more filling, and whole turkeys become a feast instead of a barbecue. The smell of homemade cranberry sauce makes our mouths water and bittersweet chocolate somehow tastes richer.

I love winter because it clears my head. The cold is logic itself.