It’s snowed. A lot. Most people love it or hate it. I could get annoyed at the slippery ice, dangerous roads, and the need to bundle up if I go somewhere.

But there is quiet and white and beauty and I choose to love it. I love going out, often in the dark, when the snow is lightly coming down and covering everything with a blanket. Everything is still, movement is slow, soft. It is peaceful, clean. I love to shovel snow, for the opportunity to work outside even when there is no gardening to do.

The kids love it too. They bundle on snow gear, or ignore the fact that it is freezing and go outside without coats on. They’ve shoveled paths through the yard, come in crying because they have snow down their coat only to shortly go back outside. We’ve sled down hills together, and even Henry was crying when it was time to go home. Even though he was cold, he wanted to sled down the hill one more time, and faster was better.