It’s still snowing here.  I’m pretty sure it’s still snowing everywhere.  We have a winter like this from time to time, where it’s just snow on snow on snow and I recite Christina Rossetti in my mind a lot.  Not being the one who shovels (for the most part.  the older boys have taken on the bulk of that as a way to earn a little money) and not having to commute, it doesn’t bother me a bit, at least not for my own sake.  I am sorry for others.  The Papa has actually been forced (forced, ha!) to work from home several times over the last couple of weeks.  And the storms keep piling on mid-week, canceling activities for the boys.  I can’t even remember the last time I left the house.  Maybe that dentist’s appointment two, or was it three?  weeks ago now?  I think I could stay here for another couple of months.  Semi-daily trips to the back yard to take the little ones sledding and perhaps the occasional snowshoeing adventure and I’m good.

Yesterday, Steve put me into a panic by posing the following desert island scenario: tea or yarn?  Oh dear.  I went with yarn.  There’s got to be something on the island that I’ll be able to brew.  Though Steve suggested that it might just be an island full of alpacas with skeins of yarn tumbling off of them and nothing else.  Thank goodness I don’t have to choose between the two in my current seclusion (it’s hardly seclusion with a house full of 6 people).

The occasional times that I do find myself shoveling, it feels good to be out working in the fresh air. I think about knitting white lace, with flecks of something warm.  Soon, I tell myself.  Soon.

I haven’t heard any complaints from the children so far.  And everyday they are clambering for more snow, even though it seems that the rest of the world, outside of this house is going wild and stir crazy.  These have been very productive days, full of school work and house projects.

The big boys have their own endeavor underway.  I’m not privy to the details, but it seems to concern an upcoming birthday of mine.  They’ve spent many hours now, sequestered in their room.  When I dare to venture upstairs, sometimes I’m met by half an eye just barely peeping through a door crack and a chorus of voices chanting “doncomein! doncomein! doncomein!”  Other times a young boy in full regalia, with wooden sword raised, boldly proclaims “you shall not pass!”  Either way, I just keep on walking and go put away my laundry.  So far, they’ve asked to borrow, or been caught sneaking away with: wax, clay, candles, yarn, paper, crayons, colored pencils, tin foil, tape and glue.  And if you can make sense of that muddle, more power to you.

As for me, I think it might be time to order some more yarn.