Tuesday

If last year was low on snow, this year is even more hopeless (for us cross country skiing types). A few weeks ago we had more than a foot of snow. Now it's mostly gone and what's left is crusty and icy and not pleasant to navigate, with or without skis. The snowman by the farmhouse has shriveled into a heap of nothing, the sled stands on the porch useless and forgotten.

And the ten day forecast shows every temperature variation -- from the mighty cold to just at freezing, but there is no sign of snow on the horizon. Right now, it's foggy, it's gray, it's basic waiting weather: we wait for something more inviting than what's out there right now.







This is the time to make sure that when you shop, you place a bunch of flowers in your grocery cart. (I'm still out of sync with my Friday shopping schedule: I go today, if only because I need ingredients for cake baking.)






It's Snowdrop's last day of vacation from school and just past noon, I catch her at home with her newest fascination with snap blocks.






It would be hard to pull her away from a favorite toy, but I promise her that Ed's waiting for a beard trim at the farmhouse. We head out.

I take out the razor. That pile of white stuff has to go!

She is intrigued.







I ask her if she wants to help, but something about the razor moving up and down his face gives her pause. She tells me -- I want my beard cut... tomorrow. We clearly haven't explained to her the gendered nature of this event. Ed doesn't help by adding -- some women have beards. I give him my very fiercest frown.






(Later, she works her hands across his face as if to make sure it's all still there...)






We eat lunch then. Or, rather, we keep her company as she shares bits and pieces of her lunch with us. The girl loves a social meal!






And then it's back to food play, as if she just can't get enough of dishing out her fruits, veggies, sushi, croissants, cereal to anyone who'll sit with her and play her elaborate games that incorporate her toy foods.






As Snowdrop naps, I look outside for any hint of a change in the weather. It's supposed to grow bitter cold again, but I'm looking for something else: a lift of the perpetual dusk-like tone to the landscape. A patch of blue perhaps? Maybe a cardinal to splash a fleeting bit of red to the frozen trees?

Not today. I make myself a third cup of tea for the afternoon (from chamomile, to blueberry, to rooibos) and watch as the light fades outside the kitchen window. This is when you start looking froward to a good dinner and perhaps a special movie viewing evening. Maybe I can twist Ed's arm for an n-th rerun of a favorite rom com. Maybe.