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By Jennifer Heyns
s soon as the first leaves
hit the ground my chilL X dren begin to inquisition me, snowflakes in their baby blues.
“When is it going to snow, Mommy,” they want to know.
Snow? Fm not ready for snow. I like just enjoying the chill in the air, the patinahued landscape, the smell of smoky chimneys and my alltime favorite fashion: boots and sweaters. I begin to get as excited as the children, albeit for different reasons.
The answer to my children's endless strain of various ways to inquire about Jack Frost is always the same. Every year I tell them that it won't snow until after we’ve had our first “real” hot cocoa. This is a very special tradition of ours and we take it very seriously — then again chocolate of any kind is serious business with me.
The first step to our cocoa custom is to get a good fire going in the wood stove. Wood and Get Wood, as we’ve renamed our boys, trek the terrain to the massive woodpile that sits at a great distance of about 10 feet from the house to heft substantial piles (about three pieces each) of kindling and wood. At the wood stove we gather round, we stack, we pile, we arrange and rearrange our unique compilation of newspaper, pine cones and kindling until one tiny ember catches on. Hours later, when we’ve established what may grow to be a
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