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December 10, 2001
Cold, my first impression of the day. Thick frost is everywhere, my last blooming rose surely killed by the overnight drop. The car will have to warm up, time to test the Swedish heated windows, mirrors and seats and find out how much Garrison likes winter.

I always loved the odd sound and sensation of frozen grass breaking underneath my foot on mornings like this - "crunchy grass". Watching my own breath, the billowing clouds created a simple fascination for mornings alone at the bus stop. First frost was always a teaser for the first snowman, snow angel and snowball fight.