Ivy’s face says it all. Oh no! Snow! It figures, since her sister Caroline found the Christmas decorations in a closet last night and set up the little tree, and had me read (and sing) The Twelve Days of Christmas while she hung the corresponding ornaments on it– from the partridge to the Lords a-leaping. Caroline slept over and the rest of the family joined us for pancakes this morning.
(Madi is ready to play on the beach in the snow, but we are less eager to, somehow.)
(Pearl wanted bacon. But all we had were blueberries.)
I tried to teach the girls all the song we sang in choir practice Thursday — the one set to Emily Dickinson’s poem:
New feet within my garden go-
New fingers stir the soil-
A troubadour upon the elm betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green.
New weary sleep below–
And still the pensive spring returns–
And still the punctual snow.
Blame it on an April snow shower, but all they wanted to do was to have us read them The Twelve Days of Christmas… and look at that pretty little tree.
