It’s been five days now. Snow fatigue is setting in amongst Seattleites.

Casa de Cheuk last night, with the aid of Photobucket's color brush effect.

I, for one, will be sad to see it go.

George Peper captured the essence of golf fabulously at the end of his 'Two Years in St. Andrews."

As I prepare to travel to Scotland this June, I’ve been reading a bundle about the home of golf — and golf generally. Although I’m not sure how it will lower my scores, I’ve taken a keen interest in the history of golf, both ancient and recent. In the latter category my most recent read is George Peper’s Two Years in St. Andrews: At Home on the 18th Hole, a book about two years the former editor of Golf Magazine and his wife spent living in their apartment off the 18th hole. I read it with hopes of picking up a few pointers about playing the Old Course and enjoying the town generally, and that I did. But at the very end of the book I read a quote — a paragraph, actually — that really struck me. Mr. Peper was asked to represent the Royal and Ancient Golf Club and speak at the annual dinner of the Fife Golf Association, an annual gathering of clubs in the area. Toward the end of his speech he described the game in a way that captured the game’s essence to the Scots and, well, to this blog-keeping non-Scot:

Someday I hope to bring my grandchildren here to Scotland — not to show them what golf is but to show them what it isn’t — that it isn’t $200 million resorts and $200,000 membership fees, that it isn’t six-hour rounds and three-day member guests, that it isn’t motorized buggies, Cuban cigars and cashmere headcovers. It’s a game you play simply and honorably, without delay or complaint — where you respect your companions, respect the rules, and respect the ground you walk on. Where on the 18th green you remove your cap and shake hands, maybe just a little humbler and a little wiser than when you began.

Except for the dig at three-day member-guests, which I quite enjoy, the now St. Andrews resident hit it spot on. And as I struggle with the question of why, exactly, I’m forking out a quarter’s worth of future colleage tuition to go on a two-week golf junket, his description of the game in Scotland reminded me of why I need to go there. At the risk of hyperbole, our trip isn’t so much a junket as a pilgrimage. And I’m very fortunate to have the means and family that allow me to take it.

Casa de Jenkins in a winter wonderland.

This morning the Jenkins family awoke to Seattle’s first snow of 2012.

And it wasn’t an insignificant amount. At least it wasn’t after the second deluge stopped in the afternoon.

The family made two ventures into the winter wonderland, the first in the morning, the second in the afternoon when we joined Norman and Sofia for some sledding on the north side of Laurelhurst Park, the kids’ first-ever sledding adventures.

Stopping for photos.

Us too.

Little did Finn know that he'd be the object of his sister's snowballs.

The weatherman says more snow is on the way. Can’t wait.

A few more pics and videos:

Reese ran out of gas toward afternoon's end.

Finn really seemed to get the hang of it and his sister, who couldn’t have cared less about soccer last time, seemed to genuinely enjoy it this ‘go round.

Reese: back and better than ever on the soccer field.

Turns out there was more.

Mike McAllister at ChapeauNoir.com reported the other day on the new Nike Dunk NG, uh, “golf” shoes:

As bad as that shirt with the holes in it was, these shoes might be even worse. All I can say is that basketball shoes are made for the basketball court. Golf shoes are made for the golf course. The two do not and should never cross over.

Safe to say Nike Golf won’t be hiring me anytime soon.

Last night I finished Jim Huber's book. This morning I learned he'd died.

Eerie stuff.

I hope this was just a strange coincidence. We’re scheduled to play Turnberry on June 15.

Jim should rest in peace. He’ll be greatly missed.

A few pics:

A little 'before' picture.

And 'after.'

Next year at least one of them may be old enough to take the plunge.

For the second straight year we ate our first meal of the year at Christo's on Alki.

Pretty sure she didn't get mixed up at the hospital.

I must have taken thirty pictures of these three and this was the only one where they were ALL looking at the camera.

Scanning for Discovery Park through one of Santa's best gifts.

The downside of Eli and Veronica’s absence was that there was no one to keep us going ’til midnight. The host (me) sure didn’t have midnight in him. By 10:30 we were all in bed — the price of being forty-plus.

A few pics:

The host family, Finn protesting.

Carrie's mom Janet joined us from Corvallis.

The next generation.

Unfortunately Finn's look is getting familiar.

What Ollie said ...

In the evening's most memorable moment, Mo LITERALLY laid one on Isabel later that night.

Gettin' ready to call it a night.

We started the day around 9 am with lots of presents. Santa Claus must have gone into debt, because the presents were many:

I’d call it an embarrassment of riches — except we’re not rich.

The kids with, um, Santa.

Finn modeling his best present IMHO.

At least Rhonda was looking at the camera ...

Later that morning the family put together the first-ever Jenkins family jigsaw puzzle:

The Jenkins family puzzle proved to be a big hit.

Later that afternoon the Beckers, Norman and Benezra joined us for a little holiday cheer.

Reese and the Becker girls.

The fellas.

Can't imagine how this conversation went.

Isabel snapped this pic - the camera seemed about as big as the photographer.

Isabel reading one of the new additions to Reese's growing library.

Unfortunately the ever-present picture man wasn’t in high gear this day, so we didn’t snap a lot of pics.