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Wind Came Whipping Cross the Plain

Some days, staying put just makes sense. Cup of coffee, wool blanket, and a good book. The norther had roared in from the north, a tall line of grey cloud over a darker mass of snow and wind. Ted had pulled into the old farmhouse in as the first flakes had started to blow, and had brought in the load of firewood and bucket of water before the wind really began to blow. By the time the snow really arrived, the fire was going, the chimney had a good draft going, and there was nowhere for Ted needed to be for the next three days.

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