Frosting

It was beautifully warm yesterday, for mid-January. We made it above freezing, and the sun was shining.

The boys played in the deep snow, while the dog found all that snow useful and dug like a badger.

The kids thought it was hilarious.

The chickens actually came down the path from the barn, scratched around and otherwise generally caused mischief. It was the probably the first time in a month that I have seen them wander away from the barn.

When I locked the chickens up late in the evening, the air was crisp and cold again.

Before I went to bed I glanced out the window.

There was a thick fog swirling past. I could see it in the glow our yard light casts on the barn. Doesn't fog usually just sit? Well, this stuff was on the move. All mysterious and good for a horror movie kind of fog.

I smiled because I knew exactly what it meant.

It meant we would wake up to a sparkling magical world, where the frost is as thick as the fog had been.


My oldest boy said, "Look Mommy, it snowed!".

I told him that even though it looked like snow, it wasn't. He already knew that. He was leading me right into a joke.

He giggled, "I want to eat that frosting!"


It was beautiful.


Maybe we should have tasted it.