Six years have already passed since Cliff and I make the trek to Virginia for Olivia's birth.  It was bitter cold and windy.  Hayden, Sofia, and Grant bundled up with mittens, heavy coats, and hoods up. The walk across the hospital parking lot seemed like miles in that cutting wind.

 

  Olivia has ensembles for all occasions.  This was her soaking-her-injured-thumb outfit.  She lives the meaning of "dance like nobody is watching."  Happy upcoming birthday, Olivia.

It's mid-thirties here this morning with a light snow falling.  No accumulation is expected, except in the higher elevations.  The gentle flurries are peaceful. 

Our times at the nursing home only last about thirty minutes now as Dot is so tired she tells us we can go and then she sleeps.  Her conversations are dark, gloomy, and dismal.  She no longer looks out the window at the birds but still asks us to make sure they are fed.  The staff loves her and does whatever she needs to bring her comfort.  It's a sad way to spend the last months.