Inside it's little protective casing, a baby pussy willow was asleep...they're coming soon...
When cabin fever sets in and it seems like my children have turned into monkeys climbing the walls, we layer ourselves up and head on out. Often, we just go a-wandering about the property as there is much to see here...the pond, the upper morel patch, the sheep, the woods, the creek.
But some wintry days require a little longer of a walk. A walk that results in tuckered people settling back into a quieter rhythm upon returning. A walk that allows mama to find a little peace after four days of flying solo while papa is working up in the mountains. A walk that fills up our spirits, like quenching a deep thirst that had gone unaware.
And on those days that such a longer walk is needed, we head down by the river. A ten minute jaunt that took three quarters of an hour just to get there. For coyote tracks were spied, chasing a herd of deer tracks. Snow plows had made a tremendously precarious terrain to walk along, beside the road. I was impatient to get to the river, but I realized that if I were ten, or five and a half, those snowdrifts, crusted over by sun melt and re-frozen, would seem just like icebergs. So I walked ahead with the dogs, and Sunshine trailed behind, happily chattering away to her doll tucked inside her jacket.
Cocoa relentlessly catches snowballs. And if you take too long to throw one, she gets a little pushy about it.
Huckley insisted on bringing his climbing rope. He finds things to climb indoors and out!
A beaver left a little love in the tree he gnawed down.
Today was a beautiful, wintry day. And by stepping out of our ordinary, we were able to see the extraordinary.