A deep stillness came over house this afternoon, and a pervasive chill has seeped in at the windows. A few hours ago, the sky began to spit down tentative snowflakes, and now seeping down through the dark branches are the largest and softest of snows. The instinct seemed at first to be for hibernation, but I think the impulse for snowball fights is creeping in.
“They’re big enough that we could float on them!” Bex says. She’s in a furry, white hat with ear-flaps, and on her way to work for the evening.
Life at the Little White House has trundled ever onwards. Our poor dear Grace has vacillated between varying degrees of sickness, and my job-hunt has been at times depressing, and Abby and Bex do this and that. But that all sounds rather bleak and depressing, and it isn’t, really.
There have been visitors and neighbors, and moonlit strolls to the park, and wild glee, and plans for mischief. All in all, I think we are very happy. And–good heavens, it’s nearly five!–I think it is a hot cocoa night.
6 Comments
February 10, 2009 at 7:13 pm
There’s little snowflakes here too, and I took a nap out of sheer weariness, but I do think I would like to wrap up in my coat and scurry over and across to Patty’s Place and join you for the hot drink.
At least, I’ll wave as I drive by some night not so far hence… and hope for the day when I can actually visit properly.
February 10, 2009 at 7:16 pm
I think you should write a book of our memoirs. Really. Your writing pulls me in like almost no other.
February 10, 2009 at 10:15 pm
I think I should quit college and join you girls
February 10, 2009 at 11:45 pm
Piffle.
We’ll still be here when you’re done. And shouldn’t you much rather be both a graduate and here?
February 11, 2009 at 2:05 pm
Ditto Gracie! We were just talking about it yesterday, in fact, Riss – wailing about how we really wished you’d write a book because we adore your writing style, etc, etc. If you’d been around your head might have grown a few sizes.
February 17, 2009 at 9:05 pm
I thought you all should know that I am eating pickles and thinking of you.