Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
No snow. Bootprints squished into the sideyard mud on a warm day two weeks ago are still there, fossilized, sandy brown, ugly to look at and awkward to walk across. The detritus of the fall season a ruptured garden hose, a squashed tennis-ball can, a broken-off ax handle thrown away in a furysurrounds the house as such junk always does in New England at this time of year. But the lovely, deceitful covering of snow that should hide it all until April, that should lead the...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In