Park Place Lodge

A Winter Like Jazz

The ski area, and our town, died on March 16. Suddenly and dramatically, we drove off an unseen cliff.

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Ahh . . . Winter!

Today I woke and walked downstairs in the half-light of early dawn. Two tracks broke the blanket of snow in the street. The falling snow diffused the street lights.

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This is Not Winter

I want to look out the front door and have a difficult time seeing my vehicle covered in snow.

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