drinking hot tea. . .

 

 I visit  my New York family in the winter and  drink hot tea, and always there is afternoon tea time at 4:00 -

a proper cup of tea, ginger biscuits, and a snuggle with baby Eleanor Darcie.

 (who arrived soon after that hike up a snowy hill)

This amazing snow. . . white, white, crunchy and hush. 

"Gran, you don't walk under the dangerous icicles, that's the rule! " Florence warns me. 

 (Indeed, icicles like daggers!)

I remember like a dream - bringing Eleanor's mother home to a place nestled at the end of a canyon in the mountains where the fog rolled in, right up to the door. And there the fog lurked thick, peering in windows for an entire week. And then one day the fog would retreat up the canyon and the sun would shine new and bright and cheerful (and the diapers would dry).

Today in the northlands snow is falling fast- soon it will be tea time.