Keyboards weren't meant for mittens

Pretending to be mailmen, looking more like hobos. (Our mailman has a moustache, and as he delivers presents Alex thought he ought to have a beard like Santa Claus.)

The towel trio

A few weeks ago...when leaves were plentiful and snow scarce.

Happy 32nd (and wishing that your wife's pictures hang straighter in years to come).

Emily in a warmer land during Thanksgiving.

J stands for jolly

Between snows...a thaw?

A monster, but such a cute one.

Today it has been snowing steadily. The world is washed in blue, grey and white. To a Southerner it looks like a BLIZZARD, to a mailman it looks like a nasty trudge, to a child it looks like an opportunity to sled, to a blogger in a charming 1920's porch/ study it looks like this will be a quick post. When this porch became a study, insulation must have been considered a decadence like icecream and steak. Consequently, I wear thjick gloves and a fuzzby toboggan as I tap keys on the keyboard. I miss type quite a bvit as my hat falls over my eyes and my fingers feel strangely thick. And if my toes blacken from frostbite, my poor husband will have an increased work load. Out of consideration for his already hectic hours, I will avoid scheduled amputations and leave the computer with my toes only numb.