Tuesday

It's the unexpected that often unravels your sense of quiet and well-being. But sometimes, it does just the opposite.

No one talked of snow -- at least not in any amount that would transform our frozen splotchy landscape. And so waking up to the unexpected -- several inches of gentle loveliness is wonderful indeed.






I let the cheepers out and pause to admire the farmette trees...






How could something so plain as white snow be so pretty?






Of course, it comes with its own headaches -- an iced over car, slushy streets in the city -- but I'll take those, just for that walk outside, or the glance out the kitchen window at breakfast.






But not too long of a glance. I'm with Snowdrop early today.

She wakes up to a great mood and we fly through the morning rituals. Here she is, bathed and dressed, running around with music sticks, just because.






Impishly showing off that she knows darn well what a tongue is.






Having a wild hair day?






Nothing a hair clip can't fix. This is one of her favorite books. I think she thinks one of the girls pictured therein is her.






Still, I can't resist the snow. I bundle her up and out we go. She's tentative. And that mitten! Where did you lose it, Snowdrop?






Well, never mind. We're not out for long. Just enough to take those steps in the snow.






Back to the puzzles of home.






And the satisfaction of getting something to work.






And so the hours, like the flakes outside, fly in unexpected directions, most often with beautiful results.


My evening is a bit unusual, in that I join Ed for a semi techi-work dinner for out of town Tormach visitors. Importantly, the restaurant served a special of Bouillabaisse. I don't say no to a good bowl of Bouillabaisse.