The snow continues here, making a comfy chair and a mug of hot chocolate more appealing than any sort of outdoor activity (although it's lovely to watch from the inside).
My children, a hardier sort, want to march right into the whiteness the moment it begins to descend, although half an hour is usually enough to soak their clothes and lessen their high spirits; then they trudge back up the stairs and inside, where warm dry clothes await.
Today, snowbound as I am, I shall spend some time writing a new book (instead of avoiding it, a behavior at which I've become quite talented).
