JOHN I. CLARKE Cold, wet snow driving against the window. The sky is grimly grey and I don’t think we’ll see any real daylight at all. Not today. One of those days best wrapped up and forgotten about. I’m sitting…
LESLIE MCBRIDE WILE Snow arrived mid-morning, shortly after the last magpie deserted the tall maples, leaving bare branches to catch whatever they might of the fine, wind-driven whiteness. I’d been waiting since early, fretting over whether the air would be cold…