Thursday, December 5, 2013

A Snow Day

Thanks to our fresh snowfall yesterday, we now live inside a Christmas postcard.
I walked to the woodpile last night, hoping to pull some white pine branches for decorating the front porch.
I got so excited, walking through the fresh deep snow, that I had to run.
The yard glowed dim and blue, the pine trees bowed down heavy with their soft blanket.
I was alone for the only time all day.
It's wonderful to be alone, if only for ten minutes.

The white pine boughs were frozen solid to the earth,
so I gave up on that idea and trudged back to the house,
trying to step in my footprints, so as not to smudge the perfect surface of snow.

Today is going to be cold.
So cold that we might stay in all day.
Yesterday we went sledding with the baby.
He took off his little blue mitts and plunged his chubby hands into the snow,
again and again,
until he was crying from the cold.
Anna Kate took a few runs down the hill in her sled,
then she gave Malachi a ride.
He liked it.
I think he loved it.
But his hands were getting so chilled by then that we lay him down in his sled
and trundled him back to the house.
He cried the whole way.
He looked like a little Michelin Man,
as wide as he was tall,
with a pink nose and red cheeks,
wailing loudly from the sled.

And that was our grand outing.
I did not get any pictures, because the snow was still falling thickly.
Also, getting oneself and a baby stuffed into snowpants,
coat, hat, boots and mittens is a bit of a workout.   

The side yard, before I ruined it with footprints.         

Since we got about eight inches of snow, and our snow blower isn't working,
Nate and Anna Kate spent an hour shoveling.
When she came inside, hungry, she got herself a plate of Christmas cookies
and settled in to watch tv with the baby and me.
I could see right away that wasn't going to work for him.
He started clamoring for her cookies.
I ran to the kitchen to get some, since his sister refused to share,
and when I came back downstairs, he was just succeeding in climbing onto the couch.
She was huddled in the corner, trying to protect her snack,
and he was yammering at top volume as he finally achieved his goal.

She said sadly,
"That was the most unpeaceful cookie I've ever eaten."

Here's to quiet snow days, naps in the afternoon, and evenings filled with peace for eating Christmas cookies.

Let me know what you do on quiet (but busy) days like this.

Here's the recipe for the cookies we cannot stop eating. 

No comments:

Post a Comment