Sunday, December 14, 2008

Venetian Plaster

Early January seemed colder this year… the wind moaned softly outside the old farmhouse windows, and occasionally whipped up and screamed, rattling the frosty glass panes. It was clear that something was on its way in – she looked skyward and saw only icy onyx clouds rolling across the great expanse. It almost looked as if the blizzard was already upon the area, but those who had lived there long enough knew this was just Old Man Winter kicking up the deep dust he’d left behind a few days ago. Another howl of icy blasts (she could feel them – even in the house, even through the thick fleece sweatpants she’d donned) told her that it was time to get out the candles, brace herself, and await the coming storm.

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