I have a large pot of homemade chicken soup on the simmer plate. The house is richly scented with thyme. Soon I'll toss a loaf of French bread in the oven and after the bread is happy spread butter and garlic atop, then slide it back inside for a deep tan.
Anticipation, the best part of the meal.
She's curled upon the couch, all lovely, deep into a nap. When she wakes I'll present her with a bowl of smiles.