On to February

It's winter. It's winter it's winter it's winter. Last year at this time, we were watching the Olympics and guessing at the gender of Pompette the third, trying to stave off the cabin fever with outings and activities, trying not to grate on one another too much while breathing the same dry air and wanting the same old toys, trying to remember that the sun existed still beyond the clouds, that spring would come, faithful, and things outside our walls would find their colors again.

Some of these things are no longer mysteries.

(The cheeks. The cheeks will be the death of me.)

Some of these things remain; namely, the constant cycle of forgetting then remembering then forgetting again that winter WILL end, and spring and warmth and sun and light WILL return to our northern clime. Every so often, we get glimpses of the sun. Then we remember again.

(The boy's boy-ness is on the increase. This photo would do well to be accompanied by the dove-coo growl that I heard while taking it.)

We may not be waiting on our own baby, but a new niece or nephew is due to arrive any day for my brother and sister-in-law, and this super-stoked photographer is keeping the batteries charged and the phone close by to capture the big event. In the meantime, we're keeping ourselves occupied with the book of Isaiah, Cherry Lane Preschool, Kindergarten registration, BeeTree website overhaul, and lots of play dates with cousins.

I think we're going to make it.