Wednesday, January 19, 2011


When I was around Meaghan's age, I remember lots of snow: piles of it that soared to the sky; driving along our driveway with walls of snow on either side. So much snow.

As I aged and grew taller there just didn't seem to be the snow that there once had been. Until these last few days, I had always thought my memories of copious snow had been skewed by my preschool stature. Not so. Given these last few days, I believe my snow memories must have been accurate.

I should have asked her to take down the Christmas lights while she was up there.

At least now I have a great reason as to why I have to leave the shovelling to Kerry. The pile is simply too high for me.

I'm surprised and grateful that no one thought of jumping off the top of the play structure onto the pile of snow. I am mighty tempted to try it though.
At long last -- some play time outside.

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