Holiday Joy

Holiday Joy

We got a little snow last week, which is a rare treat around here these days. Well, a treat if you don’t have to drive in it.

snow1

Last year, we didn’t get any snow, so our one snow day was a pretty big deal for my 4-year-old.

snow2

I love the way snow quiets things. You slow down, and pay more attention to what’s going on around you…

snow3

Like the smile on this angel’s face.

snow4

So much joy.

snow8

I wish you peace, love, health, and joy on Christmas, for the rest of the holiday season, and throughout the year.

snow9

First world problems: snow edition

260

I didn’t mind the snowstorm much at all. It was a minor inconvenience, combined with a bevy of benefits. My husband at home for a few extra days. Family play time in the snow. A little girl’s first snowman. Soup with grilled sandwiches. Hot chocolate (Gem would be sure to verify that her’s was “warm”). Days packed with guilt-free snuggle time and togetherness.

Until my internet went out. Then it got personal.

Oddly, up until I noticed the outtage, I’d spent little time online. But in the hours, minutes, and seconds that have creeped by since that devastating discovery, I’ve thought of little else. We are all safe and well. We have electricity, heat, water, stockpiles of food, and an ever-deepening wonderland of snow and ice outside. It doesn’t matter.

I’m not connected.

I cannot share my every passing thought on facebook. I can’t pin pictures of food I will never cook, and clothes I will never wear. And since we dropped cable in favor of using the internet for tv, we might even have to break out the boxes of dvds that have been gathering dust in the closet. Even my phone is on Roam.

I’m quite certain I’ll weather this trauma just fine, and I’ll try not to spend my time counting the moments till I can post this message. In the meantime, I hope you are all safe and sound, warm and dry, that your problems are more frivolous than substantial, and that the storm leaves your homes and loved ones unscathed.

Snow Angel

It’s not her first snow, but perhaps the first she remembers.

212

She offers up snowballs as precious gifts, then tosses them up in the air like so much confetti, squealing and laughing as the snow tickles her face.

280
And when she catches a snowflake on her glove, she blows it away, and says “make a wish.”

I have no idea where she got that from.

 

363

She made her first snowman

371

And she set about playing as though it was her most important work

234

It is.

228

Even when seasoned with whimsy.

308

Sunday, she asked if Santa was going to come back, now that it snowed, so that he could have Christmas in the snow.