Snow is always filled with memories of my childhood in Quebec. Every day we played in the snow, made snow people, angles in the snow, fed the birds, and what I just loved, was looking at the frost on the window panes and imagining they were maps to far away places. Later, Mum lived in the country and asked a friend to build her what was a totally useless little bridge across a very shallow depression in her garden and it just had to be painted red. I loved the bridge in summer and loved the bridge in winter. Her old tomato cages rusted at the other end of the garden.
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