The mornings are getting lighter each day, gently but ever noticeably. No longer is it pitch dark as I stumble out of my bed to wake the sleeping babies from their warm dreams. Its still cold, but now I can see my socks as I reach for them. Soon the sun will be so bright in the kitchen, its angle having shifted, that I have to draw the blinds in order to not be blinded as the sun streams over the mountain tops, already fully awake by the time it descends the mountains height. At the moment we have the cold of winter without the magic. The moon man says that we won't get another big dump until September, by which time spring will be waking sleepy flowers and the daffodils will be leading the way. The farms set their clocks to the moon man but I am ever hopeful that there will be a few more magical snow days when with such wonder and joy, my eyelashes can capture snowflakes.