A not so little fall of snow

I think of my late grandmother on days like this.  She spoke English with an unapologetic confidence using the few token words and phrases she knew of with reckless abandon.  Referring to snow as “slow” is one of her isms that I remember fondly.

So with “slow” falling as far as the eye could see, and six kids absent – we quite enjoyed slowing down ourselves.

We snuck out for recess a few minutes earlier to revel in the freshly fallen snow before it was trampled on by five hundred other smitten kittens.  The kids squealed with glee as they ran and dived into the ocean of white.

We didn’t do much else but write songs about the snow, and then draw some snowy scenes with chalk.

Sometimes it’s really nice to be jolted from our daily routines and be forced to take it easy.

Let it slow, let it slow, let is slow…

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