It’s the day before the night before Christmas, and I’m in northern New Hampshire, where there is some snow on the ground. I’m sitting in front of a fire, poking it slightly and adding another log when it gets too low. Lucy and Henry are at my feet, G. is in the kitchen mixing up a cocktail, my mother-in-law is putting a chicken into the oven to roast. I’ll be wrapping presents tonight. I’m adoring these domestic moments, and I hope that you are enjoying your own too.