There is a lot of snow outside.

Rudy will walk in the snow now. But she's still very suspicious about it. Her voice softens to a whisper and she seems hesitant and quietly distraught whenever I'm attempting to get my girls to actually frolic in a winter wonderland. In her defense, I probably don't do a very good job selling it. It's hard to disguise the fact that I'd rather be outside in the warm, cheerful sun when it's at least 65 degrees out. And the grass is green.

And poor Toot. Let's face it, if she's trying to make progress where no one has shoveled, we're talking waist-high drifts, easy.

Marley is more of a fan. This weekend, she and Todd followed some tracks into our neighbor's yard. A small pile of cracked acorns provided the unassailable proof that squirrels had been on the premises. Next, they walked home, and Todd paused every few feet to hurl her, again, up into the air and splat into the plowed snow banks. In our yard, she had a series of lounging sessions in the drifts, often with her head to the side or flat on her stomach, to better lick or gulp at the snow surrounding her.

And then it snowed again yesterday. And more is on the way. I continue to enjoy and appreciate this as long as it's only January, and I'm watching it fall from inside, preferably on the couch, beside a crackling fire, sipping tea or red wine. When I was, briefly, in ski club in junior high, I spent most of my time sipping hot chocolate by the fireplace in the lodge, so I really haven't changed all that much.