at the bus stop. . .

I awoke to the furnace buzzing downstairs. A glance at the thermometer told me it was 68 indoors. . . and 63 outside. Maybe I should open the windows?. . .It's almost as warm outside as it is in . . . Woke up the boys. Usual breakfast. Usual Monday morning. . . Ethan still snoozing. Luke unhappy that his eyes are leaking. Jaxon awake, sort of. Outside we wait. Listening to the birds. Friday at the bus stop it snowed. We wore winter coats and the boys tried to catch the tiny bits on their tongues. This morning, however, we are outside without coats. Ready for spring. [It's 65 degrees farenheit, Luke informs us before we head out the door.] A squirrel scampers across the telephone wires down the hill from us. We watch him. Amazed. He marvel at his skill. Thinking him a circus performer. A tightrope walker. Wondering where he learned these secret, mystifying skills. We wonder how he got up so high. And where he might be headed. We muse that maybe the telephone pole has a squirrel-sized elevator to help him get to that very tippy top. And that the "can" at the top of the pole hides his secret squirrel clubhouse. Sweet imaginings before the bus arrived. A wonderful way to start an ordinary Monday.