a light dusting

It snowed overnight.
For us, that means that you can still see the tips of the blades of grass in the yard, that it's impossible to build a snowman, and that the flakes gracing our heads are no bigger than grains of salt. 

But we still relish in the classic simplicity that is a snow day. Our toes start to shiver through our boots but we press on because we want one more half hour of catching snowflakes. My hair gets stringy and I have to constantly push it away from my face, which I can no longer feel despite the scarf wrapped tightly around it. Flakes stand out like stars with my black coat sleeve as a backdrop. 

courtesy of my lovely mother

The little ones are determined to scrape together a snow creature, and the puppy is confused as to why all of his toy balls have deflated. I haven't picked up the camera in a while; my main struggle becomes the best way to capture the glittering flakes through my lens as they hit the sun. 

It's days like these that remind me how beautiful ordinary life can be. That I need to remind myself constantly to slow down. It is my largest struggle. 
Slow down and gaze as the snow falls like a veil. Slow down as the hot chocolate cools. Slow down and capture beautiful moments. They won't be here forever. 

It snowed overnight because spring arrived on Sunday and this city's weather is very confused. But I am surprisingly okay with watching our own little dusting of white stuff fall, get some room straightening done, and finishing up school projects. Now is the time to practice some piano, write some poems, and read from the stack of to-finish books next to the bed. 

Now is the time to remember that sometimes it's okay to cancel plans and regroup. 

It's time to write new blog posts, start new novels, and brush up the camera skills. Journal constantly, take chances, perfect crafts. Compose songs, plan for the future, and not let a single day go to waste.

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