The snow is still crusted along the edges of the road, some of it still white, but most of it slushy.

And that crazy groundhog that everyone is talking about supposedly is telling us our future.  Pshaw.

Someone much, much larger is in charge of the weather and that is what keeps me sane in these very, very long winter days with very little sunshine.

*sigh*

The solution?

Soup, soup.  Of course, soup.

And, as my Joshua says, “Potato soup is totally my whole life, Mom!”

And then he knuckle bumps Anna and they share a quick giggle.

I would have to agree.  There is something so simple, but so very grand, about the lowly potato.  Whatever the glycemic naysayers say, I love them and will eat them until they pry my ‘taters out of my cold, dead fingers.

Who doesn’t enjoy the singular pleasure of a humble bowl of  soup, stew, or chowder?  That magical amalgamation of broth, root vegetables, herbs, and perhaps the occasional surprise of tender meat.

So many memories, so much soup.  It’s crazy but almost every single meaningful memory in my childhood somehow involved soup.  It is inevitable.

It is wafting in here from the kitchen.

I cannot wait.

“Do you have a kinder, more adaptable friend in the food world than soup? Who soothes you when you are ill? Who refuses to leave you when you are impoverished and stretches its resources to give a hearty sustenance and cheer? Who warms you in the winter and cools you in the summer? Yet who also is capable of doing honor to your richest table and impressing your most demanding guests? Soup does its loyal best, no matter what undignified conditions are imposed upon it. You don’t catch steak hanging around when you’re poor and sick, do you?”
Judith Martin (Miss Manners)

Soup and fish explain half the emotions of human life.”
Sydney Smith

Happy Wednesday, Happy Soup to you.

Hmmm.  What can I make from these old men’s shirts?   We were all working on a very fun, very kid-friendly project today.  I will post pictures in a few days.

The studio in a bit of a rumple from the renewed buzz of  holiday activity.

A pot of simple stew for dinner.

Followed by one of the best things on God’s green earth.  Pomegranates.  Oh, heavens-to-Betsy.  We so dearly love pomegranates.  It’s a bit of a yearly tradition, you see.  Always must go out and pick out five of the nicest we can find.  And then we systematically eat them, of course.

What are some of your little, homey, yearly holiday traditions?  Do share.