41

41 – No walk today except to take Leo out to the beech grove. Strong winds throw the flakes in our faces, heavy wet snow plops from the tree limbs onto our heads. Leo does his thing and we run inside. Well, we don’t exactly run. The snow’s too deep to move that quickly.

Leo loves the snow, loves eating it, jumping in it. It’s beautiful, a winter wonderland the way the white limbs hang down, the way the bamboo bows to touch the drifts, but lately I really need our walks and sitting by the fire doesn’t quite cut it.

Breathing in, breathing out, I tell myself to stay in the moment, in the snowy day. I pat Leo, stoke the fire, sip some tea. And take him out for another go of it. Everything is coated white now, but in a few days the crocuses will be uncovered, the snowdrops, the daffs. That’s the thing about March snow. It comes and it goes.

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