Even though fall is my favorite time of year, winter has to be second best. Alot of people talk about depression in winter, and needing sunshine to survive. I guess I'm made up of something different, more hard-scrabble. Whenever I say "hard-scrabble" it reminds me of the pioneers that packed their whole life up and headed west. They plodded forward, covered wagon swaying not so gently, into a life unknown. They also headed into some of the worst winters and blizzards. Imagine this: you're tucked securely into a log cabin, mud chinked into the cracks, and in some cases the shelter may just be a little soddy -- a little shelter made of sod. The winds start howling and you know a blizzard is starting to rev up. You carry more wood in from outside, and hunker down to weather the storm. In the Laura Ingalls books, she always conveyed such a picture of family togetherness, taking the storm in stride, playing checkers. I know, out on those prairies, winter is wi...