Outside Your Window

Over here in Scituate, mud season has come early. We went from frigid, snowy temperatures to a muggy, sweaty sixty degrees. This does not do good things for New England. The lovely homemade ice rinks are now giant puddles, and everything is brown.  The smells are not great either. Myles came home with mud season feet. What happens is you wear your thickest wool socks on one of these days, and you know where I am going with this.

But then, you pick up a book with beautiful paintings, and you are wooed by the words that spring is just a moon or two away.  Winter is a slow, low time where everything is hiding.  I love a season where you are commissioned to hide!  My sister's lovely neighbor gave Outside Your Window: A First Book of Nature to my niece on her second birthday.  It is an exquisite book of seasons, that I can't wait to read every time I come to visit.  We are almost ready to come out of our dens. But now I will turn from the mud and think only of red foxes tenderly walking through the woods.