Coming in from the cold and snowy outside, the sound of my furnace kicking on is such a comforting sound, one I am probably not conscious of most of the time. A turn of the thermostat starts the progression of heat with a tiny click, then a low roar before the blower begins to turn and warm air travels throughout the house, removing the chill. Maybe your sounds of warmth are different from mine. Maybe you hear the tap, tap, tapping of hot water coursing through baseboards and feel the heat as it works its way around the room, around the house, making you feel warm, even before the temperature rises. The hiss of steam as it fills a cast iron radiator can bring memories of a grandparent’s house, your childhood and now your own vintage home. Radiators can be quite beautiful and work great but they can also get very, very hot. No better place to dry out mittens and hats or just stand next to and warm your hands, your feet, your backside.Driving up the long, icy driveway to my house, the swirl of smoke is visible rising from the stone chimney. The familiar fragrance it imparts beats no other. In the fall, the smell of wood and leaves burning is nostalgic, and signals the official end to summer and the beginning of autumn with an anticipation of the first snowfall.The aroma reaches deep down into our souls and stirs us to action. We stock up supplies — food, wood, salt and sand as we imagine ourselves buttoned down into our homes, snowed in for the long winter months. Today the swirl of smoke welcomes me and makes me smile. I take off my heavy outer layers and grab a hot cup of coffee, tea or cocoa. Hunkering down with our dog smushed into her poofy bed, and cat settled firmly on my lap, I peer out the window at the bare branches of the trees whipping around in the frigid cold. Brrrr, we are all grateful to be warm.The flames in the woodstove are sending out plumes of heat and I watch from my favorite chair as the birds skitter in and out of the bird feeder, stocked full with seed. Squirrels and the occasional tiny mouse make their way to the buffet laid out just for them. As the sun dips low over the horizon and dusk turns to dark, they all disappear. Where do they go? They go to their burrows, nests and shelters — their homes. It’s zero degrees outside — ZERO — and as my late husband used to say, “there are no degrees.” My friends in the South want to know what that feels like and my words are always the same — sharp, snappy, like someone slapped me in the face. The winter months are dark and cold but each day we see a few more minutes of sunshine. Spring seems so far away and it’s hard to imagine how all that snow can possibly melt and be gone in time for May flowers to poke their heads above ground. But they do, and it does, and there will come a day when we can throw open the doors, raise up the windows and breathe in the fresh, clean air of spring. In the meantime, I watch as the temperatures reach down into the 20s, the teens and below, I bundle up with long underwear, thick wool socks, snow boots, layers of clothing, coats, hats, gloves, you name it — and I’m grateful. Still, something is bothering me. Creeping into the back of my mind looms an uncomfortable thought. How does anyone survive in this cold if they don’t have the clothes, the means, a shelter, a home? How long could a person walk around outside when the wind chills cut through to the bone and it’s zero — no degrees outside?Don’t we all rush to get where we are going, to get back inside, away from the elements? Jump into the car, blast on the heater, fire up those heated seats or scurry quickly into a store, our jobs, a friend’s house — a home? I make a note to myself — donate to the local homeless shelter before the day is through.Read the story on VTDigger here: Kathy Sollien: The sounds of warmth .