Overnight drifts bury the front steps. Breakfast is two cups of coffee and a bowl of porridge topped with last season's berries, honey and poppy seeds. A sprinkling of cinnamon. By first light I'm wrapped in hat and scarf and in calf-deep digging out the cottage, barn and woodshed. The snow easy to shovel, fine and loose like the wash of sandy beaches. My face turned against the spindrift mists.
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