The industrious folks in my family (mother, father, husband, daughter, brother, sister-in-law and nephew) tapped out (drilled holes in sugar maple trees) this weekend hoping for warm weather this week. Instead we got snow. Which means we're in a holding pattern here at 921 MacArthur Road: waiting for snow to melt, waiting for sap to run, waiting to fill that greenhouse with tomato seedlings, waiting for mud season (the only conduit to spring), waiting for the raspberry canes to sprout green. But no complaints. These hues are pretty. These days quiet. And for that reason alone, dear.