I'm guilty of laziness. Sometimes it is so hard to sit down at the computer and eek out something worthy of your time. Sometimes I accomplish that, sometimes I fail miserably. It has been such a bleak and dreary time here-mud season. We still have the snow, but its continual melting combined with the dirting that we do during snowfalls turns the whole thing into a big muddy mess. And today, miraculously, all that is gone! We once again have a spectacular winter wonderland!
As much as I loathe and despise snow this time of year, you can't deny its beauty. These views are mine from our living room and from the road, where Jerry is once again tirelessly plowing the driveways. He is weary of the snow, and I certainly can understand that, as I do not plow. But for me, it is a gift every time it happens. I am concerned for our beautiful birch trees, which take the hit of an ice storm more so than the other trees. They are the bowed limbs blocking the driveway, and when all the snow is gone, they will continue to lean. As Jerry says, "They were here long before we were, they will be fine." I'm going with that thought. The sap is running these days and down the road I understand the men are working on the syrup. My mouth waters just thinking about it. Schools were closed today, which was a nice bonus for Allison, having attended Glen Cove's Junior Prom until the wee hours of Sunday morning, she is catching up on some zzzzzz's. Well deserved. She is a beauty. All of the girls at the prom just take my breath away.
I remember when they were Brownies and Girl Scouts. And now they are beautiful young women clubbing the night away. Yikes. I'm glad she's home safe. I may not let her leave again. That's my first thought whenever I see the pictures from a good time. As a worried parent, I always think that anything that is that much fun shouldn't be allowed. Sorry Allie, I was born that way. I wonder this time of year about our Irish roots, and I am always compelled to make March 17th a Holiday, with a capital H. It's the holiday I miss our kids when they're not around, because it was always the most fun. We're together in spirit, if not around the table. Corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes. It's an acquired taste, for sure. We discovered an auction house in Gloversville, and were there at the stroke of six on saturday night, just in time to bid and win these treasures:
Two pair of snow shoes, beautiful birchwood tables and a boars head. The jury is still out on the boars head. The fact that Jerry was the only bidder should have been an indication of something, but we proudly brought him home. I'm still not sure, but his provinence gives him a position of interest in the living room. We'll see. The auction was a good time. We were packed and out of there by 8:30, so for couple of hours on a Saturday night it was a good time. I highly recommend it just for the people watching opportunities. It brings out quite a crowd, and quite alot of items to be auctioned. Mixed with the odd stuff is a beautiful hutch or dining set. It's definitely one of those moments where "you have to be there". We were. The good thing about snow storms in March is that no matter how much damage they do, you know they will be gone soon. Enjoy this last spurt of winter. I know I will.
As much as I loathe and despise snow this time of year, you can't deny its beauty. These views are mine from our living room and from the road, where Jerry is once again tirelessly plowing the driveways. He is weary of the snow, and I certainly can understand that, as I do not plow. But for me, it is a gift every time it happens. I am concerned for our beautiful birch trees, which take the hit of an ice storm more so than the other trees. They are the bowed limbs blocking the driveway, and when all the snow is gone, they will continue to lean. As Jerry says, "They were here long before we were, they will be fine." I'm going with that thought. The sap is running these days and down the road I understand the men are working on the syrup. My mouth waters just thinking about it. Schools were closed today, which was a nice bonus for Allison, having attended Glen Cove's Junior Prom until the wee hours of Sunday morning, she is catching up on some zzzzzz's. Well deserved. She is a beauty. All of the girls at the prom just take my breath away. 
I remember when they were Brownies and Girl Scouts. And now they are beautiful young women clubbing the night away. Yikes. I'm glad she's home safe. I may not let her leave again. That's my first thought whenever I see the pictures from a good time. As a worried parent, I always think that anything that is that much fun shouldn't be allowed. Sorry Allie, I was born that way. I wonder this time of year about our Irish roots, and I am always compelled to make March 17th a Holiday, with a capital H. It's the holiday I miss our kids when they're not around, because it was always the most fun. We're together in spirit, if not around the table. Corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes. It's an acquired taste, for sure. We discovered an auction house in Gloversville, and were there at the stroke of six on saturday night, just in time to bid and win these treasures:
Two pair of snow shoes, beautiful birchwood tables and a boars head. The jury is still out on the boars head. The fact that Jerry was the only bidder should have been an indication of something, but we proudly brought him home. I'm still not sure, but his provinence gives him a position of interest in the living room. We'll see. The auction was a good time. We were packed and out of there by 8:30, so for couple of hours on a Saturday night it was a good time. I highly recommend it just for the people watching opportunities. It brings out quite a crowd, and quite alot of items to be auctioned. Mixed with the odd stuff is a beautiful hutch or dining set. It's definitely one of those moments where "you have to be there". We were. The good thing about snow storms in March is that no matter how much damage they do, you know they will be gone soon. Enjoy this last spurt of winter. I know I will.
No comments:
Post a Comment