some small comfort.

it's cold.
like,
the grey skies,
and the grey trees,
and the bare branches,
and the bitter wind,
and the spite of a hard and long night or two,
all at once,
in my face,
making my fingers tingle,
my nose run,
my cheeks flush,
and my throat hurt with every sharp intake of november air.
jeez,
neighbors.
it's so nice,
comparatively,
inside the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
y'know what helps, a whole helluva lot?
uh-huh.
a cast-iron hotbox,
filled with a roaring, blazing, raging self-contained fire.
check the teleport:

mmmmmm.
duders,
it's just what i need.
a superheated red-hot  maker of all things warm.
it's the season for it;
it's the weather for it;
it's the time and the place for site-specific serious sh!t.
it's so good, too.
there's a spot by the fire for all of y'all.
it's a big room in a big house,
and there're enough chairs for everybody.
a little extra body heat is just an added bonus, really.
warmth,
in a time where everything is cooling down considerably.
that's the order of the day,
and the priority for the night;
never quiet, never soft.....