Admittedly, (like most) I am fond of the change of seasons. Well, that is except for winter. That, I dread.
For the life of me, I don’t know how I managed as a New Yorker. I once built snow men; made snow angels, went sledding and ice skated on the Erie Canal.
Yet even then my Dad spoke of my hands being cold like Gramma’s. Years have flown; at 74, I have winter weather ...
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