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Tahoe, 11/11-11/13.

My first sight of snow this year.

Sweeping windows framing the south shore as we stepped into our townhome, arms full of bags and babies.  White blanketing the shore.  Blue, the sky.  Ever-blue, the lake.

Warmth briefly painting the sky then fading, announcing day’s end.  A sleepy fire in the fireplace toasting marshmallows and hands alike.  8:30 pm feeling like midnight to all — but no worries, the “party” continued ’til 9:45. ;]

Thousands of stars hanging from the dark sky like tiny icicles, framed by the windows in the loft.  Snuggling closer to JE before baby cries woke me long before morning.

Waffles and bacon in the mornings, because every day is Saturday when you’re on vacation.

Exploring the south shore and small pier in boots, rain boots, and plastic-bag-covered feet.  But really, mostly staying in and enjoying the scenery from the warm side of the wall.

Later hiking in the beautiful cold, racing the late afternoon sun.  Snow covering branches like thick, white downstrokes.  The lake, from another vista point, as blue and beautiful as ever.

The sun setting, the cold pressing in.  Cub snuggling in against JE, and Pup in against me with cold nose and cheeks.

Cold, cold, cold.

But dotted against the frigid blue of lake and sky and cold, evergreen.  Growing and thriving in extreme climate.  Like hope.

By Friday, the sand on the shore peeked like bare skin through the snow.  Snow melting in Narnia.  Home and real life calling through the wardrobe.

(Though real life came in the form of Cub’s crying soundtrack for much of the trip.) :]

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