Cold, cold day, as days go in Mississippi.   Snow drifted down the grey sky all the morning, making the otherwise sharp air seem a kinder thing.  Though no snow stuck on the hardening mud, it was still somehow consolation for toes and noses over-chilled.   And down along the driveway, in brown curls of leaves, tiny mounds of snow collected and remained — as though some prodigal with a sugar-bowl had passed there — to be discovered on my afternoon pilgrimage to the mailbox.  

Ah, behold, it was very good. 

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