The exfoliated remains of Friday’s purge glistened from their scattered positions along the banks of both sides of the creek. Some were two to three inches thick; others seemed paper thin; into most were carved perfectly round bore holes. Meanwhile, with the sun-heated, mid-day temperature at just 20 degrees, the flowing creek was calmly laying the foundation for its next coat.
This is the wintertime experience, one that can quickly shift from stalled redundancy to rapidly unfolding change.
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