“I don’t want to write for adults. I want to write for readers who can perform miracles. Only children perform miracles when they read.”

~ Astrid Lindgren

I woke into the white world, fresh inches whitening the trees, the cars in the driveway, the lawn. A text from one of the Wednesday morning writers, seeing if we’re on. Yes. We can do it. It’s only a couple of inches, and we have a special celebration planned after our writing workshop; I very much don’t want to cancel. Frank is gone when I get up. So rare for him, he went to bed tired and in a grumpy mood. Unsettles me. Make me aware of how much a mood can impact a loved one. He’s almost always optimistic, cheerful, uplifting. I’m probably guilty of impacting him much more with my much more variable moods. I put on my skis, and crossing the yard the powder is soft and fast. But as soon as I’m under the trees, my skis stick in the wet snow and leaves. This won’t work. It’s gorgeously white, though, at the river. I must return and take off my skis and put on boots. Then, I am just strolling through the black and white landscape, taking my time. It’s a setting of quiet, mindful, restful peace. The snow has quieted everything. Me too. I breathe deeply, and think about the plan for the writing workshop.

And Frank returns home; I meet him on the driveway. How is he? Cheerful and helpful. He has slept, been to his meeting, revived himself in all the right ways. Our writing workshop is deep and rich. We are having a luncheon “shower” for one of our members right after the workshop to celebrate her recent addition to her young family; her adoption of a foster child, age five. We want to give her a party to celebrate and have planned the gift: a basket of beloved children’s books. She doesn’t know the books we’ve all brought will be a gift after the workshop. I introduce the writing prompt, based on the children’s books. (Would you like to receive the prompt? I’ll send it. E-mail me at kellydumar@gmail.com) We have so much fun and the writing is wonderfully inspired. After the workshop, we have a lovely lunch, and then we give her the big basket full of books and she is tearfully grateful. There are so many children’s books to love. The book I choose is Jan Brett’s “The Mitten,” A Ukrainian Folktale, about a boy who loses the white mitten his grandmother knitted him in the snow, and a collection of animals finds the mitten and they all move in, making room for each other, the yarn stretching and stretching and stretching as each animal moves in to the comfy, warm interior. The perfect book the perfect story for a snowy day and a growing family. Our group is growing, too. Today, a new writer joined us. She fit right into our mitten.