you wouldn't know it from the snow that melts in our mud room or the pile of boots at the door, but we've caught a glimpse of spring. it grows now, even in the dark, under a cold cover of white.
a balm for this winter-weary soul.
Thursday
for three strange days
the sun shone. the snow melted. the sap ran, and babes and chickens followed suit.
you wouldn't know it from the snow that melts in our mud room or the pile of boots at the door, but we've caught a glimpse of spring. it grows now, even in the dark, under a cold cover of white.
a balm for this winter-weary soul.
you wouldn't know it from the snow that melts in our mud room or the pile of boots at the door, but we've caught a glimpse of spring. it grows now, even in the dark, under a cold cover of white.
a balm for this winter-weary soul.
