When I first got up this morning, there was only a trace of snow outside; it wasn't on the ground or the roofs of the houses, but only on the roofs of the cars parked in the street. But now, two hours later, "the first of December is covered with snow" – a line from James Taylor's "Sweet Baby James" that crosses my mind on this day every year, along with the 1974 blizzard that delayed our return to Toledo from Thanksgiving in Rochester by ten hours. It's not going to be that much snow in Basel today, but Andrea just called from the other room, "Oh my, it's coming down hard." (Andrew Shields, #111words, 1 December)
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