Wintry thoughts

As I frosted the gingerbread house, and the frosting squirted out of the pastry bag, I had this wierd flashback to my childhood. I realized that there is an actual sound that frosting makes when it comes out of the bag, and it brought me back to when my mother would decorate cakes with the star shaped tip, and make that very sound. The smell of the frosting she always used is so clear, as well as the little dots of it she would put on each of our fingertips, and on our tounges if we were lucky.

I've also been thinking about snow. I miss it so much that it aches. It aches even more when Jed asks when it is going to snow. I have to answer, "It's probably not," because I've just got to leave room for a miracle. When you tell anyone in New England that you miss the snow, they act as if you're crazy. "I hate shoveling!... and driving in that stuff!...bah!" they'll reply. I think maybe they've just lost at bit of that childlike awe of staring at the silent world outside the window as white flakes gently collect on the frozen ground. Or maybe it's just a simple case of not truely appreciating what you've got 'till it's gone. Or maybe they all fluctuate between the anger and awe. Yeah, that's probably a bit more like it.