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Like every fish I've ever caught, when it sees the net, Winter is making one last run.
We had a light, dry snow, the wind started to blow hard out of the North, and temperatures plummeted. Some forecasts called for temps below zero, but all Winter could muster here were temps in the low teens.
Tonight it's cold, but the wind has shifted back from the South.
Those delicate pastels in the sky yesterday don't lie.
And the message in the calligraphy of little bird feet is true.
Winter, we've almost got you in the net.
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