We are currently under the shadow of a great billowy grey blanket.  A winter comforter if you will.  In the mornings when the sun seems to give me a nod that she is indeed still alive and well, I nod back, but lately it has begun to get easier and easier to just give the nod and not the full greeting she deserves.  So, with a newly infused sense of moral obligation to seek solace under the rays of light that I so miss- I reinstated the morning walk that had dropped off ever so casually since Willow’s birth.  It started when the temperature dipped, and a few colds or flus or sleepless nights, or likely a combination of it all, truth be told- I found myself stuck.  Stuck in the send ’em out, warm ’em up, feed ’em and do it again routine.  The one that so conveniently subtracted me and my vitamin D intake from the equation.

But a sled around my waist, a baby big enough to be hoisted on my back, and a pair of metal claws on the bottom of my snow shoes and I am out again.

This month is about survival.  About coming in and letting that blanket cozy us up, and then entering the wide world for a while in hopes of letting bits and pieces of sun collect in the hollows under my dry eyes.  Oh February, you are bleak but not without hope.