Sunday, February 9, 2014


One day, I woke to love it all, and I think it has everything to do with woods life. In how the snow rests on branches, and covers everything--its fall a whisper.

The driveway shows solitary tracks. We walk about outside and I see deer prints and rabbit prints and there's a community quiet so serene. Erin is my all-weather girl--and it doesn't matter if it's rain, ice, snow or sun, she's outside playing. This week was no exception. (Well, I did hold her back during the ice storm since branches were falling.)

Today's afternoon snow shower leaves us all hopeful and expectant: could there be a delay tomorrow? Oh, could we just have one more day?

Shane primed the laundry room, and it's a brilliant primer white. I walked in and smiled. Cindy had painted the room Antique White, from top to bottom. (EVERYTHING.) I liked it when it was their house, but now that we're here, I need a clean slate. 

He painted the ceiling white today, and I stood in there like a smiling fool, watching the snow fall outside from the window. Next is a coat of Gray Owl on the walls. I imagined the hook boards back in place, and what frames I'd hang and where the little gray bench would go. I would remove the hardware from the cabinets and the doorknobs and spray them oil-rubbed bronze.

I used to hate the brown season at times, when months of brown and dirty white were the view from every room. But this year I have come to welcome it. For a few moments I thought of spring and budding trees, of tulips and daffodils along the walkway. However, our groundhog has not come out, and I'm inclined to join him, hibernating a bit in home. It is cozy and warm. It is unhurried and hushed. It is full of color and life inside. And from here, we watch the woods fill up with snow.

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