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When it is snowing


Weekend lunch time rolls around, we break from house stuff, stare at the kitchen. PB&J? no. Leftover Squash pasta? yep. Matt gets to work boiling water, I put Tallis down for a nap. She wakes up just as we finish eating. Darn, there goes my nap. Matt heads back up into the attic to scatter loose fill insulation, as the days are getting colder.. err, rather the nights are getting colder in our un-insulated bedroom. Kids get to work playing in the living room, I sit down with the laptop attempting to inspire myself. Hmm, dinner? Click over to Hogwash, my usual source of awesome recipes. Reading about Lamb Chili- one that will definitely be on this week’s meal plan. Then, the words jump off the page: I’ll make grilled cheese and tomato soup when snow falls.

When the snow falls. Ahh, you have no idea how much I love grilled cheese and tomato soup. When the snow falls. It is a food that is instantly provoking memories. Distinct and real memories, where you can taste the tangy acidity of the tomato, smell the mingling butter and cheese in a hot pan, feel the smooth texture of creamy soup contrasted with crusty toast. The way this combination is so warmly enticing, bringing heat back into the very core of your body and radiating outwards. It was a staple growing up when coming inside after hours of play on snow days, shaking bits of white out of the crevices of jackets and gloves onto the old cast-iron wood burning stove then sitting down, still in long underwear, bowl on plate with the biggest spoon in the silverware drawer. It was a staple after ski races, after having sat in a bus or a van for several hours in damp base layers, hauling a few pairs of skis, boots, gear, helmet up the stairs only to drop bags at the front door in order to pop soup in the microwave and butter the pan before hanging anything up to dry, even though there is practice again tomorrow. It was a staple on our honeymoon, car camping through Canada, made now on a camp stove on the rear bumper of the Outback at -27 Celsius then diving back into the car under sleeping bags to covet the gooey warmth before it cools down too much to be satisfying.


Yep, grilled cheese and tomato soup are synonymous with falling snow. But we are not there, not yet. No, today is cold, there is a great crispness in the air, a foretelling of things to come. The sun is low and cool, the day hazy and stagnant. We spent lunch discussing job shifts for teaching at Alpental this year- Matt gets Wednesdays again, I get Saturdays so then the kids will come up in the afternoons to ski with us. Yes, not there yet, but gearing up in anticipation. Araiya spent part of the morning on Matt’s lap watching French free skiing competitions, commenting on the skiers dropping barrel rolls off cliffs, saying, “Raiya ski that. yep. Raiya ski that too.” Luckily Matt has been preoccupied with work and the house, he hasn’t spent that much time digging on the internet for new Tele gear. At least he hasn’t started waxing his ski’s yet. Or maybe that is why he wanted to do some work in the laundry room today? Soon enough. Meanwhile, it is a wonderful reminder of the small things I all too quickly forget. Soon, it will be once again winter, once again ski season. When it is snowing.

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