The snow falls from the gloomy skies, bitter and unrelenting. The roads are buried deep beneath a mixture of soft snow and gray sludge. The branches of the trees are stripped bare and ugly, shuddering under the weight of the snow.
Yet, indoors, Ianthe is bright and chirpy. She is stretched out before the hearth, her paws cradling a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with huge marshmallows. She believes that chocolate cures a multitude of ills. If anyone - dog or cat or rabbit - should stumble in through her unlocked door, seeking shelter from the snowstorm, she is quick to offer them hot chocolate. And as they sip from their mugs together, before the warm fire, she listens attentively to their tales of woe and complaints of strife.
And at night, Ianthe snuggles under her favorite patchwork quilt. It keeps her warm and cozy, even as howling winds batter the windows. Sometimes, huddled underneath her quilt, she knits. She knits scarves and woolen hats and mittens and blankets. And in the morning, she gives these out to the young pups who do not have nice warm quilts of their own. Nobody in her town has to shiver in the snow, and they have Ianthe to thank for that.
When the snow finally melts and new leaves start to grow, Ianthe sets her quilt and her mug aside with a sigh. Till next year, she whispers to them, her faithful friends.
The only comforting thought is that there will be no kittens who need shelter from the storm, or puppies who need warm scarves. She watches them play outside among the flowers, faces glowing as brightly as the sun.
The hot chocolate and the quilt can wait, she decides.
Yet, indoors, Ianthe is bright and chirpy. She is stretched out before the hearth, her paws cradling a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with huge marshmallows. She believes that chocolate cures a multitude of ills. If anyone - dog or cat or rabbit - should stumble in through her unlocked door, seeking shelter from the snowstorm, she is quick to offer them hot chocolate. And as they sip from their mugs together, before the warm fire, she listens attentively to their tales of woe and complaints of strife.
And at night, Ianthe snuggles under her favorite patchwork quilt. It keeps her warm and cozy, even as howling winds batter the windows. Sometimes, huddled underneath her quilt, she knits. She knits scarves and woolen hats and mittens and blankets. And in the morning, she gives these out to the young pups who do not have nice warm quilts of their own. Nobody in her town has to shiver in the snow, and they have Ianthe to thank for that.
When the snow finally melts and new leaves start to grow, Ianthe sets her quilt and her mug aside with a sigh. Till next year, she whispers to them, her faithful friends.
The only comforting thought is that there will be no kittens who need shelter from the storm, or puppies who need warm scarves. She watches them play outside among the flowers, faces glowing as brightly as the sun.
The hot chocolate and the quilt can wait, she decides.
Bio by Tar #1249086