A few days ago, Winter was still snuggled happily in her blanket of snow.  Buried in white, nestled along hills and creek sides, joyfully providing shades of blue and grey on top of her glaring brilliance.

Today, Winter’s rude little brother showed up, snatching her blanket back from her bed. Warm wind melted snow, running water under the layers of white, turning silent snow to puddles of dirtied slush.  Taunting with his message of Spring, Winter tries to hold onto her cover of white, but the tug of war game may indeed be won by Spring.  We all know, with histories of siblings in our memories, that Winter may indeed have a last touch, or two, before this dispute is settled.


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