It is snowing in mid-April. The kids are home and it is eleven o’clock. We are all still in our pajamas. I warm up some leftover soup and sit at the table, the napkins and glasses from Easter still scattered over its surface.
The peonies are drooping, the hyacinths laden with snow, but the dahlias are still safe in the basement. I checked on them this morning and some of them are waking up, green sprouts bursting from eyes no longer dormant.
Even my children are tired of the snow, preferring to be inside all day. Maybe we’ll get dressed later, I think. Maybe they’ll start fighting and I’ll make them go outside although I don’t have the energy for boots and snow pants.
But for now, the house is calm, the sound of wet snow pattering on the roof.