The
pelting sound began after midnight, lightly at first and hardly noticeable as
light tapping sounds on the roof.
We
looked out the front window to see the street light, expecting to view falling
snow of some form captured by the amber glow cast downward from the pole.
Rather, the screen outside the window was caked with a rain that had begun to
change over to ice, giving the window a stained glass appearance of muddled
orange light made diffused by its covering.
The
pelting were the ice crystals, falling in earnest and combining with a misty
rain, glazing everything in a sparkling wonder.
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