poem for a sunday morning and gifts from austria

 it's in the low 40's this morning. the magnolia tree in the courtyard has finally lost all it's snow, and i figure it's only a matter of a day or two when we might be able to smell the earth again.

the snowdrops

"where are all the snowdrops?" asked the sun

"dead" said the frost "and buried every one."

"a foolish answer," said the sun,

"they did not die, asleep they lie

and i will wake them, i, the sun

into the light, all clad in white

they shall grow every one."

by annie matheson

 here's the beautiful yarn morgana sent with our friends. i've been looking up sweater patterns on ravelry.

a book bag for chanda, and a cookbook for korrina.