I’ve been watching the news (something I don’t normally do) and seeing all the pictures of the snow and cold. Believe me, I feel for you. Though I live in beautiful
now, I spent the first twenty-three years of my life in northern , so I
remember winters very well. The freezing temperatures and watching your breath
turn to puffs of vapor every time you exhaled. The snow (or promise of snow)
and school being cancelled, leaving us free to ice skate or sleigh ride…after
chores, of course. Icicles hanging from the roof and glistening from the trees
and that pristine landscape of newly fallen white stuff before all the
footprints ruined it. New Jersey
It wasn’t all fun and games though. I knew that if it did snow, there would be the inevitable phone call in the middle of the night. My father worked the grave yard shift in
. If it snowed, he’d call when
he got off his shift, usually about three or four in the morning, with the
wonderful words “Shirl, get the kids up. I’m coming home”. These prophetic
words meant that my brother and I would need to get up (at whatever time it
happened to be) to shovel the driveway, bundled up in heavy winter jackets,
fur-lined boots, mittens and scarves to the point where one could barely move.
So glad I don’t have to do that anymore! New York City
But I digress. It’s the second week of 2018 and I have finally (Yay!) figured out which story I want to work on next. And it isn’t one of the eighteen I already have started. It’s brand new. The idea came to me (of course it did) while I was doing dishes and looking out the window. Strange how the best ideas come to me when I’m doing something else!
Stay warm, gentle readers! Snuggle down with a good book and cup of hot chocolate. And if you have pets, please bring them inside.
Until next time, remember to spread kindness wherever you go.