one day

One day, we'll have lots of eggs to sell like Sam's sign says. The chickens will know winter is over. And Sam won't have time to paper punch holes and beg for string and beg Priya to write the letters for him. He'll be happily digging somewhere outside.

One day, Anneka might forget about playing inside with the same sticky toys. The green grass and her purple bike with the streamers will lure her outside.

One day, Ellie won't have to pick a chunk our of my loaf of bread. She will be busy running after the cats and sitting on her trike and eating dirt.

One day, our red craiglist chair will collect dust. We will all be busy digging in the dirt and mowing lawn and coloring our nearly paint-less buildings. Priya will be far too busy outside trying to make Molly the dog into a horse that will pull the wagon to sit around inside posing for pictures in the red chair.

 One day, Henny Penny (or whatever her name is) will spare only enough time inside to lay her egg. She'll be awfully busy catching bugs and doing outdoor chicken activities. [In case you ever wondered what a speckled chicken looks like up close].

 One day, we'll grill steaks and hamburgers in short sleeves. All the hay and corn we drug through the snow to fatten up those five beasts will be a distant memory and we won't feel much remorse that they are filling the freezer instead of the barn.

We'll take walks and not have to vie for space on the road with the county snow removal equipment (like this morning).

We'll burn wood and hot dogs in the fire pit.

We'll open windows too.

While white is beautiful, it has this numbing effect that makes one frantic for colors and a muddy porch. But for now, we'll appreciate a warm house and we'll read some more books and be thankful for seasons that do change.