So our kids pretty much grew up in northern California, with only the oldest remembering snow at our old house; she’d been not quite five when we left New Hampshire. Then she was off to college, to Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, up at a goodly elevation and right by the side of a mountain. Her first semester, we got this phone call. Cue the Calvin and Hobbes: “It’s snowing. I’ve got my electric blanket set on Deep Fat Fry, and I am *not* coming out!”
Now the middle two kids are at BYU, and I didn’t want my younger daughter to shiver. Scarves and more scarves, till finally, she said, um, Mom, I really appreciate it, but I really don’t need more scarves.
When our kids are young, they take all our time. Now, it’s like I can take all that love gained over all the years, and radiate it further out. Everybody’s baby is my baby to admire, I’m not distracted with my own. Everybody’s joy is my joy.
And everybody’s a potential recipient for a good, soft, handknit scarf.