Late in the day while we were making the rounds of the neighborhood, including the sanctuary we call Casey’s Field, the filtered sunlight gave the ridge and surroundings a cast of pre-snowfall conditions. Temperatures were pushing the mid-thirties at best, and our now barren field looked like it had been prepped for a half foot of the white stuff.
Conflicting forecasts will probably keep us guessing all weekend, but for the first time this winter some accumulation seems inevitable. And when it comes right down to it, our snow-junkie deserves it. It’s been so long.
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