Sometimes, the best thing about autumn in New England is the promise of what's to come: a roaring fire in the fireplace, a blanket around my shoulders, a good book, and a cup of something warm and sweet. There might be rain outside or grey clouds. The leaves might be falling. But sometime in the future, the world will be covered in white snow and crystal ice, with sledding and ice skating under brilliant blue skies. When the cold has permeated my soul, it'll be time for sugaring, then after that the leaves will unfurl again. They will green and grow providing shade and shelter until the time comes for them to turn yellow and orange and red. And when that time comes, I shall be sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket with a good book and a fire roaring in the fireplace.