Snow, snow, look at the snow

A favorite Dr. Seuss book of our family's preschool years was Snow . . .

Snow, snow, just look at the snow. I want to know, do you like snow?

Yes, we do.

Flurries are forecast for tomorrow morning, in the northern suburbs. Because this is the South, the weather people are giving this forecast front and center coverage at every news break. Which means we may or may not see a scant few flakes in the air, melting by the time they hit the ground.  What we hope for every winter, fervently and with keen anticipation, is a snow day . . . enough snow on the ground to go sledding, dampen sound, cancel school for a day, and give us even more reason to light the wood logs stacked optimistically in the fireplace. It's a Southern thing. After the humid heat of the summer, we enjoy the novelty of snowy weather.

Another "Southern thing" is our love of tradition. We accept change a bit slower than most and have to be convinced, after lots of talking and chewing things over, that we actually want said change.

I just viewed a slide show presentation to the City of Dunwoody by a team of architectural students at Georgia Tech. Its vision of the heart of Dunwoody, our Village area, makes me hope I'm alive and kickin' when it's underway. Our house already sits just a five-minute walk from the Village center; imagine adding all that greenspace, sidewalks, and bike paths as well as old-school retail on the ground floor and residences above. (Too bad it'll happen after some unfortunate development in the stream and transitional buffer between our neighborhood and the Village. But overall I'm very impressed with what the students propose.)

On a snow day, we may want to amble over to Starbucks for hot cocoa, a walk that's a bit of a challenge right now because we have to cut through parking lots and dodge traffic on Dunwoody Village Parkway. With sidewalks along the way, we can enjoy the rare winter gift much more safely. During the summer, the farmer's market will be much more accessible. Right now, we have to jaywalk across the parkway after traversing a busy parking lot. I love the return of the Dunwoody Farmhouse to its origins, surrounded by crops and greenery rather than broken asphalt. And it will be very satisfying to see a mix of retail shops and service establishments that satisfy our needs without having to hop into the car and drive unnecessary distances. Throughout the Village will be greenspace buffers and park space, water features and pedestrian-friendly conveniences.

Simply wonderful. I can't wait to see it happen.

A glass of wine, a loaf of bread, and wow.

I've been rising early, to be at work by 7 and home by 1. Today, I slept in and stopped by the Dunwoody Farmer's Market when it opened at 8 am.

Bliss.

Purple hulled beans, alligator beans, fresh chevre packed with herbes de provence, a crusty loaf of French sourdough studded with olives . . . yum. Allison and Janna (two of my very favorite people) were there, glowing from their run and restraining Janna's giant dog from nuzzling the Garmons' duck and kitten.

With that sensory experience to start the day, work at Dunwoody Nature Center was even more pleasurable than usual. I was on the scent of basil, the bountiful harvest bursting from the raised vegetable beds in the park. I clipped several bunches, shared them with camp teachers and staff, and brought a handful of variegated home to dry. The classroom and hall filled with rich, herby goodness as parents arrived to pick up our smallest campers. "Natural air freshener," I called it as they exclaimed over the wonderful smell.

Supper will be particularly delectable this evening: a glass of the amazing (and inexpensive) Bohemian Highway chardonnay introduced by Kim K, slabs of olive sourdough slathered in fresh chevre, and purple hulled beans cooked with fresh basil.

Hungry yet?

A break in the summer heat

Did you get up this morning and discover that summer is wonderful again?

The dense, humid heat that has broiled Dunwoody for the past few weeks has finally broken. The sky seems clearer, plants look greener, and the air feels breathable. The tween and I enjoyed an afterdark stroll last night, I enjoyed some meditative plant watering both at home and at Dunwoody Nature Center, and all the windows at work are open to let in the fresh air.

While we're all still very tired from the Butterfly Festival (the clean-up is neverending), the refreshing temperatures make the work much more pleasant. Soon, the last recyclables will go to the collection site and the park will give no hint of the throngs who chased butterflies last weekend.

A family visited the park today for the first time, fresh from unpacking boxes that traveled from New York City to Dunwoody. They've already planted a vegetable garden and are eager to uncover all the sustainable living opportunities in our blooming city. We told them about Sustainable Dunwoody, the Farmers' Market in the village, our square foot gardening classes and camps for their children, where to find Farmer D's magic compost, and how the city is putting "green" into its longrange planning. Soon we were bubbling over with opportunities and ideas until the parents begged for notepaper so they could write everything down.

I love chatting with visitors to the park. The business of operating the nature center is sometimes all-consuming. Then someone asks for a park map, a child runs in with a mysterious insect to identify, a tiny hand inches toward the candy jar I keep filled on my desk (they know I'll say yes), and we all remember once again what we love about working at the nature center.

We had another little guy come to camp on Monday who was not really sure it was a good idea. He sobbed inconsolably, impervious to our hugs and coaxing. So we called Mom, I hugged him in my lap and chatted with him until she arrived, and off he went with a wave and relieved smile. (I wish she could have seen the way he lit up when he heard her step - I kid you not. He recognized her footsteps! "My mommy! My mommy!")

This morning he arrived holding hands with one of his big brothers. After some encouraging words from Mom, he stayed the course. Later in the morning, I saw him skipping down the hall. "Hi!" he waved as he passed my desk. "I got in the cweek!"

I'm glad he came back and gave us another try.