Eight snow days out of the last three weeks. The night before each one I've fallen asleep vowing, "tomorrow I will sew all day long!" The day comes. Hats, gloves, snow pants and long underwear are pulled from bins. All purpose flour flies from bowl to counter top. Puzzles are started. Quilts pulled over laps. Dinner time arrives and I haven't sewn a single stitch. Not because I haven't wanted to. The more the merrier is the saying and even at their ages it's fun to have more bodies sledding/baking/puzzling/snuggling/lazying than less. Yesterday we walked a half mile to a hill perfect for sledding. The snow plow pushed past and spattered us with slushy mud. I stood at the top of the hill, feet buried under snow past my ankles, wind making my face feel raw and kept my head in the game. Right there with them. Giving thumbs up and fist pumps. Encouraging my girls to run and jump on their sleds headfirst and barrel down a steep hill. These years are short. Sewing can wait.