A Near-Perfect Morning

 One thing that I have tried to learn from the time of enforced lockdown the past year is to enjoy the moment where I am.

I may not be with my parents or my kids or my friends from home, but I have some marvelous friends here in Quillan and I live in a place that is beautiful.

This morning, when I woke up and went to the bathroom, I realized that we had a rare snow in Quillan. Even though Earl was still asleep, I threw open the shutters so we could see the snow fall and cover the cars, streets and mountains. In spite of the lovely white stuff, the temperature was barely below freezing, -1 in Celcius, 30.2 in Fahrenheit. 

It wasn't long until we were out of bed and having a lovely walk through the snow and up a nearby mountain (with a gentle slope because of my injured knee). 

Snow on the palm trees too. 

Usually when we climb the mountain, there's a beautiful view of the surrounding peaks, but today the sky was gray, blocking the view and promising more snow. 

I made a snow angel.

The snow was good for packing, but Earl knows better than to pelt me with snowballs. I'm sure he wished that our sons were around for a good snowball fight. 

Snowball threats

An arch of snow-covered trees

The snow was more prevalent up the mountain and heavy enough to cover the branches. Only a few walkers and dogs had been up the path before us. 

We came upon our favorite donkey and Earl felt super guilty about not bringing him a carrot as he stood in the falling snow.

He found some dry grass and offered it to the donkey. 

When we returned home, we noticed that the snow was much more melted, but it continued to fall.

I made myself a mocha and a crumpet (Thanks, Derrick for supplying them) with apricot jam for breakfast. Work was looming, but I stayed a minute more at the table enjoying breakfast and time with Earl before I jumped in the shower to start teaching. 

And I'll take a minute to remind myself, no matter what or who I am missing today, this has been a near-perfect morning.