Christmas Eve it rained. Christmas Day it rained ... until about 9:00, when the rain turned to snow and the snow just didn't stop. And in the strange wonder that is our local weather, we totally got clobbered here at New House, when but a 10 minute drive south from us got but the lightest dusting of snow.
Silly me, thinking that the snow would soon vanish, I got up early on Boxing Day (this year renamed Doctor Who Day in honour of The Christmas Invasion, woohoo!), pulled on my coat and hat and my mother's boots all over my pajamas, and went tromping around to get pictures before all the lovely snow fell off the pine branches. Little did I know that the snow would stay, looking as white and beautiful as every, until today ... when it started raining again.
This is a picture taken standing beside the garage at New House, looking down the (not-yet-cleared) driveway to the road.
Had a lovely Christmas, which was hectic and loud and cheerful and all those things that such holidays usually are. Have I been very productive these last few days? Nope, not really. I've chatted and ate lots, baked jam cookies and watched The Christmas Invasion. (Twice. Also made my first true attempt to convert my mother into a Doctor Who fan, with pleasing results.)
I know I have some important things coming up -- I need to get writing, on the novel but also on a story whose deadline is fast approaching, and I have a few other little related projects that demand attention, and some non-present jewelry making might be nice, as well as the whole returning-to-work thing. Clothes shopping would be good, as would shopping in general. But for now I think I'll stick with the cookies, curl up with the still incomplete afghan and a Bujold novel and watch the rain attempt to melt a foot of snow.