january

This part of winter always feels the longest, the coldest, the bleakest. I was dreading it for months: how Oliver would beg to go outside, but there would be mountains of snow in our way, not that he would understand that. But instead, we find ourselves in the middle of a week where the high is almost 50 (one day, at least) and the low is still around 40. I can work with that.

 (sunrise one morning) 

With skies like this, I think I can put up with January for a bit longer, snow or no snow. And I'll take more days in the 40s, too, thank you. Nothing like running around in the muddy grass, clutching sticks and dead leaves, to make Oliver's day.