Outside, the snow has turned to freezing rain in the most literal sense. Every stinging piece of shrapnel can be held for only a moment in ones palm; a perfectly smooth teardrop or globe, as manufactured-looking as the plastic bubble at the end of a hot-glue gun, then suddenly an unremarkable wetness. Yesterday, at quarter to seven I heard classes were curtailed in anticipation of the storm. I balked, in New Hampshire fashion, that we would tuck our tails so quickly at a little snow. I expect the Ice Storm that left so many powerless this December (I was miraculously unaffected) set the tone of fear this Winter. However, I will admit today the healthy helping of white perhaps warranted school closure.
It is a welcome respite from the brown, salt-licked snowbanks, though they'll only return en masse in a day or two.
Here are some pictures taken with my laptop camera of the view from my apartment. It's amazing how little separates my resting head from the cold pillows outside.
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