Marching

This month is “March”ing right along. I’ve several posts in the works–we sugared our maples at the Anchorage! and painted a room summer gold! and loaded up all our furniture and moved it all, even the piano!–but can’t help but share my sweet Norahbear, my polar snowprancer, my brave spring-believer. The neighborhood feels quiet, blank, bright. Our Portage is emptied of half its contents, Norah sleeps on a futon mattress on the floor, her Papa and I sleep on the pull out couch left in the living room. Piles of packed boxes mount along the walls. This blizzard has wrapped us up in a cocoon, awaiting April.

Except, of course, Norah.

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