This past Saturday morning we had hoped to wake up to enough snow for sledding. That hope started the night before. On Friday night, my husband and I watched anxiously, like the native-Californians that we are, and were even messaging a neighbor in hopes of a nighttime sledding run. It never seemed to snow “and stick” long enough. We went to bed, hoping for more snow by the morning. I awoke to a powder-sugar-on-bundt-cake sifting of snow, not enough for sledding. Although we could’ve remained disappointed, my little one (who is getting bigger every day!) decided it was well worth a walk outside and perhaps a try at sledding anyway. The two of us bundled up and ventured out. She also thought it was a good opportunity to pelt me with a few snowballs (not pictured– had to protect my third “baby”, i.e. my camera.) Our neighborhood was absolutely beautiful, and the short walk outside was both calming and invigorating. I breathed in deep the cool morning air and listened to the quiet hush that had fallen with the snow over the neighborhood– interrupted only by the sound of our boots crunching the frozen ground. Although my daughter just wanted to play, she obliged me for a few moments of stillness to capture her almost 9-year old beauty in the painted white surroundings we now call home.
