Onion Snow Acquits Groundhog

Pennsylvanian's awoke this morning to what locals call an "onion-snow".

"Onion-snow" falls in late March or early April, just after the onions have begun to show their green tips.

Unfortunately, the lingering winter was not what the groundhog predicted. For this "crime" of mistakenly forecasting an early spring, newspapers across this country have called for our state groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, to be indicted, arraigned, and face the death penalty.

You are being summoned to be a jury member in this case.

As the groundhog's defense lawyer, I contend that this charge is an overreach by the prosecution. Since when has this:

been a felony?  How can beauty such as this:

be considered to be a capital offense? This:

is not what Phil forecast for March 25th, but weather forecasting is not an exact science. Mother Nature delights in being unpredictable.

Besides, I ask you, "Do these scenes illustrate malicious intent?"

And further, is it not highly unfair to hold a groundhog to the same standards as the sophisticated experts who have global satellite images and computer models? Of course, such a standard would be unjust. It would be like expecting armchair sports enthusiasts to fill out March Madness brackets with the same accuracy as coaches who have studied the best team's films all season.

No, Pennsylvania's furry weatherman was wrong in his forecast, but this:

 does not look like a crime to me. Think about this scene:

in a different light. Instead of committing a crime, Pennsylvania's groundhog actually did us a favor.  When we were expecting a hint of green, we got one last unexpected glimpse of pristine beauty.

In truth, Punxsutawney Phil has done nothing worthy of death. Rather, an "onion-snow"is a perfect example of celebrating what is, not what is hoped for.  

In light of this "onion snow" evidence, won't you vote to acquit Pennsylvania's furry weatherman?

Baby, Baby

In the last six weeks, we have been blessed with two beautiful granddaughters. The girls are not twins, but cousins--Evie and Vivi. I thought you might enjoy seeing each of their respective sugar-and-spice nurseries. Although the mothers both chose the classic pink and white color scheme, their individuality shows up in the details.

Here is Evie's room.  She was due first, but arrived 48 hours after her cousin.

Daddy, sister, and brother inspect the nursery.

Both families chose classic names with up-to-the-minute shortened versions. Evie's full name is Mary Evelyn. Don't you love it? Mary is a family name on both sides, but she is particularly named for her maternal great grandmother.

Evie's mama found the darling letters on Etsy.

The two windows in the room are draped in pink linen panels with pleated off-white detailing. They were made by Pat Martin of Going Home Interiors. The quilt, crib bumpers, and the bedding are from Pottery Barn.  The wicker night stand belonged to Evie's mama when she was a girl.

 The other window is to the right of the crib. 

Here is sweet, tiny Evie sleeping peacefully in her bed. 

Newborns sleep through anything--especially third-borns!

The other granddaughter, Vivi, also has a pink and white room. Just like her cousin, she has two siblings.

The photographs with the watermarks were taken by Anne Canon Photography, a superlative family photographer from Kansas City.

However, unlike Evie who has a brother and an older sister, Vivi has two brothers. From the looks of things, her life will be a little more rambunctious than Evie's.

After decorating two little boy's rooms, Vivi's mama designed Vivi's nursery to be as feminine as possible.

The candy-striped rug from Pottery Barn sets the color-scheme for the room. And the Kensington mini-chandelier, purchased through Joss & Main, guarantees the room's glow by day and night.  

Vivi's window is draped in the reverse of Evie's, having white panels and pink under-shade. The linen smocked panels are from Horchow, while the Roman shade under drape was constructed by Pat Martin of Going Home Interiors. The wicker rocker and christening gown came from Mission Road Antiques.

The shadow box was purchased at Michaels.

Across the room, some generational baby clothes are on display under Vivi's name.

Vivian shares her middle name with her Gigi and her Aunt Anna. 

Pen and ink drawings from Etsy hang atop the changing table.

And, just like her cousin, Vivi sleeps like a princess her new room.

The Lord gave our family two sleeping beauties in two days. I'd say we are doubly blessed, wouldn't you?

(Again, credit and thanks to Anne Canon Photography for the great shots marked with her logo.)

Rushing the Season

I don't know about you, but I am always anxious for spring. As soon as February shuts its door, I am ready to greet pussy willows, primroses, and pansies. At the garden center, clerks annually remind me that a long or especially cold snap can kill even hardy cold-weather flowers. I know, but I can't help myself.

My winter wreath is packed in its box, and a circle of forsythia and pussy willows hangs in its place.

Ceramic snowballs are encased in their container, and the spring flowers bloom their place.

Inside my snowflake candle holders and snowmen are tucked into their bubble-wrap blankets. Now monochromatic eggs nest in a pottery bowl.

The cyclamen on the dining room table sprouts pussy willow shoots.

In the kitchen, an angel at an empty tomb announces, "He is not here; he has risen as he said." This tableau focuses attention on the meaning of the season: New life was bought at a terrible price offering the humble recipient forgiveness instead of guilt and hope instead of fear.  What a reason to celebrate!

No wonder I look forward to the coming-to-life of all things bright and beautiful. Let's hope the ground hog was right, and we are destined for an early spring.