Sunday, 17 February 2008

Isolated flurries.

This morning outside my window here at Nolan's the woods were deep, quiet, buffered with a layer of white cold, muted in their sunrise song. Few birds, a wild bunny or two and three big guys clomping around outside, headed for an early ride to check the creek and see if it was running yet in the warmer winter day.

I opted to stay snuggled in flannel and that old grey sweater and keep my memories close and my children closer, ignoring their oatmeal and fruit while they do mazes in the activity books we brought.

John and Duncan are here, they spend most weekends and Nolan loves the company, missing his own sons, who are up North making their fortunes.

And Ben, Ben is here too. He quit.

Then he went back.

Long story. I'll tell it in a day or two. Right now I just want to enjoy this, it...him.