|
...and the wicked wind whispers and moans. The Very Big Storm missed us but barely. Secretly, I'm disappointed. Did anyone else's mom make you put plastic bread bags over your socks and under your snow boots before being allowed to rush the snow drifts with childish fervor and glee and sixteen pounds of snow gear? I miss the sound of nylon snow suit crunching against freshly packed snow. _________________________________________ back | forth | archive | contact | diaryland |