This weekend, we'll be told that our clocks can spring forward. Such a poor choice of words, because for me, in this season, time can stand still. I love the onset of the the first long spell of warmer weather (coming for us, this weekend!). I love how the landscape seems so brown, but if you look down at the dirt, you can find green heads pushing up, cracking the wet soil. I love the return of birdsong. And of course, by late spring, I love the planting of new flowers, fruits, vegetables. To be on the cusp of this most perfect season is thrilling!
Today's sunshine primes us for what's to come. (Here's our old reliable golden girl, looking splendid against a blue sky.)
Yes, we're in the promised polar blast (we've stopped calling it "vortex" this year), but honestly, you have to be a real winter hater to mind. It's sunny, bright and our hearts are pointed toward spring. Sort of like in yoga where, you're always told to raise your heart. Mine is raised! As is Butter's: she ignores the cold, the ice, and daintily traipses through the snow to greet me.
Scotch looks like a ballerina as she navigates the ice!
At the farmhouse, breakfast is rather early. Blame it on the cat.
And then I treat myself to a professional haircut. Ed did a serviceable job a few months back, but I want something more fitting for the season. A splurge, for sure, but I'm psyched for it! Let the local young woman do her tricks.
We discuss the options. I repeat what she already knows -- even though I loved the color of my hair the years I let Jason the color expert use his potions on it, I refuse to ever go that route again. And here, the young hair person says something that just makes me smile: you have such a wonderful palate of colors! You don't need added color!
Of course, "wonderful palate" does not translate to "gorgeous palate," but I choose to interpret her words in the best possible way and give it the contextual meaning it deserved.
After, I fly to Snowdrop's home.
We do our stuff: tummy time, pull ups, a bit of book play...
Snowdrop has one of her smiliest days ever.
It's impossible to look away.
And why should we? The smile of a two month old is so real and true. You cannot doubt it. We don't doubt it. We just smile along.
Oh, Snowdrop!
Today's sunshine primes us for what's to come. (Here's our old reliable golden girl, looking splendid against a blue sky.)
Yes, we're in the promised polar blast (we've stopped calling it "vortex" this year), but honestly, you have to be a real winter hater to mind. It's sunny, bright and our hearts are pointed toward spring. Sort of like in yoga where, you're always told to raise your heart. Mine is raised! As is Butter's: she ignores the cold, the ice, and daintily traipses through the snow to greet me.
Scotch looks like a ballerina as she navigates the ice!
At the farmhouse, breakfast is rather early. Blame it on the cat.
And then I treat myself to a professional haircut. Ed did a serviceable job a few months back, but I want something more fitting for the season. A splurge, for sure, but I'm psyched for it! Let the local young woman do her tricks.
We discuss the options. I repeat what she already knows -- even though I loved the color of my hair the years I let Jason the color expert use his potions on it, I refuse to ever go that route again. And here, the young hair person says something that just makes me smile: you have such a wonderful palate of colors! You don't need added color!
Of course, "wonderful palate" does not translate to "gorgeous palate," but I choose to interpret her words in the best possible way and give it the contextual meaning it deserved.
After, I fly to Snowdrop's home.
We do our stuff: tummy time, pull ups, a bit of book play...
Snowdrop has one of her smiliest days ever.
It's impossible to look away.
And why should we? The smile of a two month old is so real and true. You cannot doubt it. We don't doubt it. We just smile along.
Oh, Snowdrop!
