Morning

We wake with goofy piles of snow. I know, I know, it's March in Boston, there's no reason I should be surprised. Still ... all those boots and hats and mittens had started to wiggle their way to the BACK of the hall closet and I can't say I was upset to see them disappear, until YIKES OH NO WAIT A MINUTE, we sure need them all of a sudden.

So many people have late winter colds which are also part of this early Spring weather it seems. Please sick people -- force those fluids and get well soon.

There's something brave and valiant about our morning routines. I love when I catch a friend on the phone in a distant city a few time zones away trying to rouse themselves. They perform the magic incantations of java brewing. The spell we call coffee can just about save you some mornings. My magic is tea, however.

I have an acrobatic troupe of squirrels, furry brown, on a white snowy circus floor out there doing the craziest stunts. Who do they think they are? What do they think they are doing? They make me laugh enough with their gyrations and near-death experience leaps of derring do to get my heart racing, day going, bath drawn, tea drunk and might get me and my son out the door to stand in white snow waiting for a big yellow school bus to arrive flashing around the corner, scooping up children on their way into this day.