On Saturday morning, Adelaide was the first to wake us up with a pull-back of the curtains to share what she had already seen out her own window. It had snowed. Quite a bit more than the light flurries we were expecting to wake up to. The news spread quickly from babe to child and room to room. The usual morning wake up, get-to-it doesn't linger long in the family on days like that. And so we found ourselves - a little faster than usual, and together, the lot of us, descending down the stairs for breakfast. Because on days like these there are plans to be made right off - plans of skiing and sledding and snowmen. And plans of snowplowing and shoveling too.
Entering the kitchen, plopping miss Annabel in her high chair, and starting the kettle for tea, I was thinking about making some muffins with the leftover oatmeal I had saved from the morning before. I started to gather what I needed. But looking out the window - the bright sun and the freshly fallen snow outside were calling me. And there sat my camera - at the ready as it almost always is - and a reminder of you, here in this space. Making plans of their own, my people barely glanced up as I announced I'd be right back. And out the door I slipped.
It was gorgeous out there. And I thank you for the little push to get out the door, because there's nothing quite like a fresh layer of snow that arrives in the night. The morning revealing a freshness, a quietness like no other. The sun shining through the ice. The snow bending branches from the trees. The wind blowing it all around. And the fresh powder only disturbed by footprints of the smallest creatures who weathered the storm amidst the dark and the snow. I noticed how new it all looked, and how surely it was all to look entirely different in just a few hours.
I thought, as I walked and marveled and breathed that fresh air and took these photographs to share here in this space, about you. About the funny, wonderful, magical, bizarre, and beautiful ways in which we connect here in this space, day after day, year after year. For we're going on seven years now this week, did you know that? Seven years that I've come here and shared something-or-other from my days. Goodness, seven years feels like an awful lot, and sometimes I can't quite wrap my brain around the how and why of it all. But most of the time, I really can. Most of the time, I feel an enormous amount of gratitude and joy about this place - and for you. For without a doubt, and in many ways, my life is better for these daily little walks we take together.
I thank you.
Have a lovely day, friends.
