We woke up Christmas morning blanketed in fresh snow.  Such an expanse of white is impossible to resist–coats and hats and gloves and scarves donned, we slipped into the white with glee.

There is something about fresh powder that is magical! The sound of snow beneath your feet is a silence you can almost hear. Soft shuffling, brightly colored snow birds we crunch, crunch, crunch our way.  Our neighbors appeared in windows, we waved our Christmas greetings. Silent best wishes for a New Year–best wishes you can almost hear.

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