"Why is it summer here?" asks Mary, pointing to patches of naked grass, "and winter there?" There being the other half of our yard still covered with snow. I am sure there are all kinds of eerie explanations as to why, in Indiana, in the middle of February, it is 63 degrees outside but I am much too busy soaking in the sun and inhaling the mild air to dwell on them just at the moment. Here comes Elijah pulling his sister in the wagon. I hear the swing set squeaking, my children singing at the top of their lungs. It won't last, I know but, s-h-h-h, let's please not spoil it. Today, this afternoon, I'm less overwhelmed, more optimistic. And fancy that - nothing's changed but the weather.
1 day ago