Come on over—

We're having a party!

The candles are lighted, the music is on. There's lots of good food on that table back there, and wine in the kitchen and hot cider and pretty red plates and festive napkins, and—hmmm, where are the guests?

Not out in this. We're getting phone calls and emails cancelling left and right. "Sorry, snowed in", "can't get the car out of the driveway", "no snow tires", "not goin' anywhere" and on and on. Can't blame them and I'm not surprised. It's brutal out there.

But wait! Two couples arrive. Old friends who are all accustomed to winter weather. One couple lived in Alaska, the other grew up in northern Montana. A little snow? Piece of cake! We eat, we drink, we visit, we laugh. We hug each other several times and stand in the kitchen and marvel at the snow falling and falling and falling. Later our daughter and son-in-law and his mother and sister and two little girls in parkas and fancy outfits arrive. Sofia's same age cousin is visiting from Ecuador. More food. I reheat the cider. We talk, we laugh. The girls play with my stash of toys and clatter through the house and dance in their shiny party shoes. A small party, but one of our best, I think. Thanks for coming, guys! We missed those of you who couldn't get here. We'll see you soon, I hope.

The dishes are done. The food is put away. (And if we're snowed in, we can eat for a week on what's left.) It is nearly midnight and the snow has stopped for now. Beautiful. Just beautiful.