Late Friday afternoon, everything has that iron caste to it. The snow is "good packin" for snowballs, but ice hides beneath so more like iceballs. I have spread dog-safe salt on the porch. The walk is shoveled. There is no more reason to go out for a while. The house is quiet, the radiators clank contentedly. I have hot tea and a furry dog to snuggle up to.
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