A wintry treat: Michael and I sipped coffee together in the predawn as Oren finished his sleep. A light dusting of snow. I don’t exactly despise winter. From the indoors, its rather charming. I don’t even dislike playing in the cold. I do dread wrangling a toddler into layer upon layer until I have deemed him appropriately dressed enough to be outdoors. I don’t look forward to icy roads and slick sidewalks. And I insist that there is nothing more dreadful to look upon than the gray grime of snow fallen weeks ago. But to be warm and snug, safely inside, while inch after inch of white fluff drifts from the sky? Swoon. This season has me so up and down.
Today has been slow, my blood is thick with cold. I’m sluggish. I’ve accomplished some at this reduced pace anyhow, a sure beacon of the miraculous.
I pruned a succulent in hopes of propagating new plants:
I am straining kefir and hoping for cheese:
Ogie-bogie has been busy as well, climbing into the record bin, in hopes of finding the ignition and riding it off into musical bliss. As I type he is firmly planted atop the records, again (surely not ideal for the records):
George caught a fuzzy nap, in hopes of dreaming away the snow so he could return to the wilds without risk of frosbitten paw:
On Tuesday we hit the playground, in hopes that all of winter would be mild:
And a friend had hoped for a peek at some house corners. Wish granted. Here is the back of my toilet. What? Not what you were hoping for?
This post was brought to you by hope; the mindset that will see us safely to spring.
Thinking cheery thoughts,