I was walking Wee One to school this morning, and I pointed out to her something that I love to look at in the snow: when a blade of grass casts a shadow on the snow. A thin little blade of grass. A narrow and delicate shadow on the sparkling snow.
She said, “So you’re in love with grass shadows?”
Not as much as I am in love with you, child, but yes. I am.
In the Northern Hemisphere, in the US, things have been fucked up all year, by which I mean 2021. (It was supposed to be better than 2020!) It sucks.
Those of you living on the North American continent are aware know how cold it’s been this winter, yeah? And, I don’t know about you, but our ground has been covered with snow for longer than I have, I think, ever seen. And least, in my remembered history.
And you know how I feel about winter. Well, I have Wee One (WO). Am I going to deprive my child of the chance to frolic in the snow because I am an old curmudgeon? No. I’ll put on my big girl panties (and base layer and wool sweater) and go out with her.
I’ve been having a lot of fun. I got proper snow pants in preparation for time outside with her, and waterproof gloves, so I’m considerably drier and warmer and I can sit down. I’ve been outside twice as much this month as I was in February last year. (The two years I’ve been keeping track. Tryin’ to get WO outside for 1000 hours this year.)