and the icicles kept growing.
A bird left its wing prints in the snow on our front porch,
and the dirty rinse water froze in our kitchen sink.
And last but not least . . . my babiest boy turned eighteen. Alas, not a boy any longer.
And, according to family tradition, he chose his birthday meal. Pizza! I failed to take pictures of those masterpieces, but I can tell you that the cheeses were all (mozzarella, feta, ricotta) made here at home, as was the sauce; the frozen, smoked and pickled peppers; and, of course, the garlic. It was a feast! But then there was that chosen dessert.
I find it to be a wonderful thing that most bitter moments are tinged with a bit of sweetness!
* Quote by Clemenza from "The Godfather" immediately following the untimely death of Paulie Gatto.