Sunday

Drizzle today, rain tomorrow, cold returns the day after. Our yard is like a Dalmatian puppy. Or a holstein cow.






The sled tracks remind me of finer days -- when there were a few inches of the white stuff. Will we get some more? Winter teaches you to wait and make no demands.






Let's put some color into the day! Breakfast.






It is Sunday and so farmhouse cleaning is first on the agenda. I scrub. Ed plugs in Mr. Robot, the automated vacuum cleaning pal and retreats to his computer. Life is so unfair.


We go out for a walk in our county park just before the light drizzle turns into something unpleasant.






There is, in fact, a hidden beauty to the landscape, but you really have to pause and think about where it might reside.






(Why do ice fishermen fish in close proximity to each other?)






And now we're rolling into a Sunday routine. I work in the kitchen fussing, fixing, anticipating with a smile the dinner that's ahead.

The young family arrives.






(Snowdrop spies her current favorite -- the Olivia book. Mommy has to read it to her. There is no choice. The planet will fold and disappear if mommy does not at this second read the book. Personally, I think Snowdrop has just a tiny bit of Olivia in her.)






Dinner. So grateful that on this very foggy and chilly night they are here...






And now comes the quiet of a late Sunday evening. I put on a good playlist of classical favorites, or as Snowdrop would say "some of that beautiful music without words." Oh, to be this calm always! It's a worthy goal.