The ice is still on the trees. When a breeze moves through this pine by my front stairs, it sounds like tiny bells. It was very cold today. It is supposed to rain tomorrow and then be very cold on Sunday. I have been told that it is only us northerners who always comment on the weather. When we talk to strangers, we talk about the weather. It is always changing and it is what we have in common. We are never at a loss for words.
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