Sacrifice for the word!
Martin's finishing our taxes.
The girls are asleep and I should be writing or at least cleaning the kitchen or bettering myself in some way.
Please read my column tomorrow morning; it's a celebration of our sweet eight-year old friend, her sister and their granddad--they tapped their own maple trees and made their own syrup. I had some on my pancakes this morning, and it tasted divine. I wish, like a maple, such miraculous things could happen to me over the winter. The freeze would just make me run swifter and sweeter.
We had sleet and rain today. Anyone have spring out there? I coaxed the lilacs this morning--they're beading out deep velvet purple--Just wait, wait, wait a little longer. Maybe I was talking to myself.
