oh, did I tell you: it's snowing?

There's a knock on the downstairs door. While I'm going down the stairs I'm looking out the window and can see no tracks in the path from the street to our door. It's because at the door is one of the littler neighbor boys from the apartment building down on the corner, and he's come from the opposite direction.

"Do you know where our sleds are?," he asks.
I do not laugh.

"I know they are out there somewhere," I say. "I think the snowboard is between the birch tree and that pine tree," pointing.

"But we want the orange sled."

"Gee, I just really don't remember where I saw that last. It might have been up at the top of the hill, but it might have also been down in the trees. I'm sorry -- I just really don't remember."

Every few minutes we call out to him in encouragement.

He's still there, twenty minutes later. That's him in the picture above, bent over a likely looking bump in the snow.

And now the even littler boy -- with a cough -- has joined him. The snow comes up almost to mid-thigh on him. He trudges a bit, then throws himself down and swings his hands and legs.

Our hill is now a random meander of boy trails, with occasional body plants.