Today is sort of a nasty day. Still, the high is 50. Not what one would expect mid-January. Naomi wakes up every morning with a glimmer of hope in her eye–in fact, Friday of last week, before she looked out the window she convinced herself, and Leviah of course, to dress for snow. Well, it reached 60 that day, and then on Saturday we spent a lovely 70+degree afternoon at a local park hiking around, looking for signs of wildlife and enjoying an oddly warm January afternoon with a picnic lunch.
So, Naomi’s dreams of snowmen seems distant. Not to say they won’t happen this year, but it’s feeling less and less likely as the weeks pass. We’ve barely had need for hats or gloves! I won’t complain, we love having days where playing outside is comfortable in a light jacket, but it feels like someone is screwing with my internal seasonal clock. I like at least one good snow storm for fireplace and cocoa nights; it’d be a shame to get to March and not have enjoyed at least one night huddled together with a blanket, our warmest socks and the thrill stomping down snow covered streets surrounded by blue skies and muffling white heaps of clean white snow on the ground and branches above.
Rainy will not fill this craving. It is not acceptable winter precipitation.
In spite of it not being a Nordic winter around here, Drew has picked up the decidedly Scandinavian past time of whittling–spoons. Don’t get me wrong, I love feeding little Eliza with one of these delightfully charming and rustic applewood utensils, but I can see an obsession evolving and it’s a smidge unnerving…