{by Nicole of 60piggies}

she presses her nose to the glass and says, can i, mom? can i go out and play?

and i say sure, and she bundles fat like a sausage and scampers out to tromp in loopy circles and play ‘pretend washing the car’ with her brother. they giggle like fiends out there, reveling in our first hearty snow of the season.

after a spell i head out too, to document my grossly over-photographed prickly-mean bush in the snow. he’s a thorny little fellow, but such a looker.

and when i’m no longer certain i have fingers or ears (or any minor extremities whatsoever), we rush back inside to thaw and breathe warm, deliciously normal air.

knowing that i will loathe the unending supply of this white stuff never seems to put a damper on my glee at its first appearance.

welcome, snow.