Thawing Out

After we returned from church and the laundrymat yesterday, I went walking down to the creek. As in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the imminence of spring showed in the trickle of snow runoff, in the mush of softened snow underfoot, in the dark earth between patches of snow. I may not see the snowscape again this year.

I’m okay with that. I appreciate that when the ground is frozen, the mud does not make life difficult. I think I appreciate the need to be inside. But I’m excited for sun and growing things, and the blossoms of spring.

We’re slowly figuring out how best to use the chipper. Supposedly it can shred paper waste. And it can—if you tear it all up into ridiculously small bits first. Not worth the gas to run the machine. The constant drizzle today meant we didn’t get much chipped—our gloves and mittens, soaked through, offered little warmth.

Snowpack remains, but it is only one or two inches in most places, instead of six or more.

Phil and I came inside at one point and found Joe bare-chested. Isaiah had written “Isaiah Isaiah” across Joe’s chest, and Jadon had written “Joe Joe Joe” on his forehead. Endearingly, Jadon also put little crosses on Joe’s temples, “to show that Joe loves Jesus and follows him.”

May it be so.