8:00am on Broadway

This morning my youngest asked if he could stay home from school.  His down jacket, a hand me down, that he as been wearing for the past six winters has lost most of it’s feathers. A new one has been ordered and ought to arrive tomorrow.

 

 

I sent my boy out into this.

 

And if I didn’t feel guilty enough, these pictures don’t capture the sound of the wind howling .

Now, it’s sleeting. I’m at the computer that is by the courtyard. Every few minutes I hear the crash of chunks of snow and ice as they plummet from high floors down to the pavement below.

A bread is rising. There will be hot cocoa for all when they get home.