It's Quiet When It Snows

Our first snow of the season greeted us this morning as I peeled myself from our warm bed, not quite sure I was ready for the week.  I bundled up with extra layers and snow boots as my eager beaver waited impatiently by the front door.  Apparently he and our city don't take snow days.

Franklin and I made our way around the neighborhood seeing tire tracks in driveways that reminded us the world keeps going on days like this...we don't live that far south. People here handle the snow head-on.  We drive in it, shovel it, play in it, marvel at it.

I braved the crowds at the grocery store yesterday to do our weekly stock-up, and people were buying food like they wouldn't be able to dig out for days.  Wouldn't that be wonderful?

An excuse to huddle in and shut everything else out, drinking lots of cider and hot chocolate.  Piling on blankets and cheering on snow days.  Get mesmerized by the fire.  Survive on soup and roasted marshmallows.

For someone who doesn't like winter, I sound pretty convincing.  If given the chance between beach and mountains, I'd almost always choose beach.  But this is pretty great once in a while.

Hunting. 

Success.  Found a toy he hasn't played with in months.

Camouflage.

It's tough being Franklin.  The world at his finger tips and he's forced to sit by and watch.

Until Andrew comes home from work.

It's quiet when it snows.

Sleep tight.