There's the snow. Where's James?

Like thousands of other shocked Southerners, we recently awoke to snow! We soon began inquiring about James, the boy in the snow. (If you've never watched Raymond Briggs's The Snowman, a short, captivating animated film about a boy who builds a snowman, the Bedsole boys highly recommend it. No dialogue, just beautiful music; we only know his name because it's written on a gift that Santa gives him.)

There were no James sightings and hardly enough snow for a respectable snowman, but it worked out for the best. By the time we rounded up enough layers and coverings for our extremities, Thomas was whining that his boots were "too tight" and his "head's too big" (for his hat, which was true). Things were much better outside for about 10 minutes. We threw a few snowballs at the window (like James) and caught a few flakes on our tongues. However, the WIND(!!) was unforgiving, as was the cold stuff on our little hands. Enough was enough. We spent the rest of the morning watching it snow from Cici's kitchen counter.
John David: