Good morning!
It’s Sunday, and we have tubes and toboggans and kicksleds and bobsleds and saucers at the ready. But first, before we tackle this perfect expanse of unmarred snow, let’s stand here and take it all in.
“Look up at the miracle of the falling snow,—the air a dizzy maze of whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly transforming the world, the exquisite crystals dropping in ditch and gutter, and disguising in the same suit of spotless livery all objects upon which they fall.”
—John Burroughs
Onwards—with a few swift runs downhill and trudges uphill before it’s time for hot chocolate,
Clara
