COLUMNIST: In a fog
The day started out white and filmy. The yard was a white floor under white air over dark branches. My car looked out on nothing--the windows blind until I scraped the snow off of them. The ice on one side of my car was overlaid with crystal patterns, a delicate filigree of nature's artistry. I scraped my car windows until I had a narrow slit of a view in each direction. I could just see to the edge of my property.
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