Snow=Scones

It's been snowing since dawn. We're three weeks into April, and there is snow predicted every day as far into the future as weather.com dares to predict. But, in my continuing effort to master the art of not giving a fuck about whatever little unpleasantries life throws my way (A destroyed tire? Eh, they're still under warranty. A TWO HOUR swearing in ceremony for the Idaho bar? I haven't had to listen to a judge or a lawyer talk at me for a year and a half, I think I can handle it. More snow covering my green grass? Whatever dude.) I decided that the continuation of winter gives me permission to ACT like it's still winter. Forget spring cleaning. Forget eating like I might have to wear something skimpier than jeans and a wool sweater . . . ever. I'm spending the day on the couch with a good book, I'm not going to stint on the firewood, and I'm putting chocolate chips in the scones for my afternoon tea. To hell with spring. I never liked spring anyway.

The snow is in retreat.

I repeat. The snow, it is in full retreat! These last two weeks have seen an amazing amount of snow melt and it is embarassingly thrilling. I mean, don't get me wrong, you could still go blind looking at the landscape on a cloudless day without sunglasses, but the cover is . . . thinner, and the edges of the snow fields are gettting farther and farther from roads and foundations and tree trunks. And, I can hardly believe this myself, and I check on it every day to make sure it's still there (in fact, I just went to the window to make sure it didn't disappear overnight), but there is GREEN GRASS growing against one corner of my house, the one that gets the most sunshine. Green grass, inches from the snow field. It's so promising! (Of course, the retreating snow is revealing all kinds of trash and detritus and general uglyness that had been beautifully covered for the last few months. Like these cars. Believe me, they looked much more . . . picturesque surrounded by green grass than they do by rotten snow and mud. But lets focus on the positive, hmmm?)

On Saturday I drove down to Boise because the weather report was promising temperatures approaching 70 degrees, and lo it was wondrous. As I wound through the canyon, following the snow-melt swollen river down from the mountains, I honestly started grinning like a fool, alone in my car, when green growing things replaced black and rotten snow on the side of the highway. I might just have let out a little squeal when I saw buttercups (!!!) flowering between the boulders. And then . . . in Boise . . . I wore FLIP FLOPS! All day long! And I wasn't cold at all! In fact, I was a little warm! And then yesterday? When I left the spa? FOURTY SEVEN DEGREES. I drove home with the windows down. I may have almost cried a little. Living here has definitely given me an appreciation for the little things, like grass, and unconfined toes.

Thanks for all your congratulations on passing the bar. I really appreciate it. It's strangely comforting to know there are people out there (even people I've never met!) thinking positive thoughts for me. Not to be all gooey or anything.

I'm really not sure how it's possible.

But somehow I passed the bar. It's not like I want to be a lawyer or anything, but . . . I really don't like failing. And as much as I was totally prepared to re-take it in July, I'm soooo glad I don't have to.

Ok, so it's still not spring but . . .

For the last week or so, every time I've passed over the bridge across the reservoir, I've seen trumpeter swans gliding through the black water between blocks of ice and snow. I mentioned them to my mom, and she asked if I remembered the spring storm when I was a child that brought an entire flock of migrating swans to rest and regroup in a neighbor's field. I do remember, but in seeing the swans over and over this week I had forgotten that they don't come every year. One more unusual, wonderful event to add to my tally for this (first?) adult winter in the mountains.

And last night, as I was driving home, a pair of long-legged foxes kept pace with my car for awhile, yellow and orange darting between dark trees, brightening an otherwise monochrome landscape.

Today it snowed from daybreak until 3 pm. Small, dry flakes, that fell quickly and didn't last long.

I'm trying to focus on what I have, what I see, and not what I'm missing.

Tea Time

I'm afraid I might finally have read too many golden age English mysteries. Zach sent me an excellent scone recipe last week, and I've taken to making them every few days and then serving myself afternoon tea when I'm at home. With home-made jam, and tea in Great Aunt Thelma's china. Three o'clock rolls around and I break out the flour and butter and by 3:45 I'm sipping tea and dropping crumbs on the sofa as I read . . . yet another golden age English mystery. I haven't yet started putting the milk and sugar on the tea tray, but I'm this close. When combined with my recent obsession with learning how to embroider properly (my first cross-stitch project is almost finished) and the fact that I live alone with two cats . . . be honest: don't I remind you of your Great Aunt Thelma? (I haven't even mentioned my new obsession with toile!) I'm pretty sure if I lived in a neighborhood with children, I'd be yelling at them to get off my lawn.