As I sit here writing, Scout is sitting closely by my side, starring at me woefully. He is wondering what has happened to his morning walks, or any walk at all for that matter. The best he has right now is to go from the downstairs slider, along the path that Glen has shoveled to the bottom of the deck steps, up those and back into the house through the slider on the porch. A good 50 yards at the most. The poor darling, his is bored out of his mind.
As I sit here I think "well I was going to start writing on Tuesday mornings", but that was suppose to start next week. No time like the present I guess.
Most of all as I sit here starring out the window at this wintery nastiness, I started thinking about all the things I miss…
I miss grass. I even miss mowing it, but don't tell Glen that.
I miss the splashes of color that the flowers in my garden offer.
I miss the growing heirloom tomatoes in my narrow little vegetable garden.
I miss my "Taking the Backroads" adventures. My wanderlust is hugely unsatisfied right now.
I miss Lake Michigan and the beach.
Most of all I miss walks with the dogs. Walking through the neighborhood making sure everything is as it should be.
So even though I know I need this time of year, because it forces me to stay inside and do all the things I put off the rest of the year. I am just not an inside person, there is too much to see and explore out in the world, and I hate missing it.