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This Place I Live

The light is low and blue these winter mornings as the sun rises. There are other days Mt. Mansfield glows like an old time cream popsicle. The snow coats the trees like a woolen scarf. The dogs snuggle closer into the comforter hoping that I will roll over and go back to sleep. But that will not happen because I want to get to the mountain and ski before I have to go to work. Can I really be so lucky to live in a place where a coffee clutch with my girl friends means meeting in the parking lot at the mountain, throwing on my boots and heading up for the first run? Or getting to the office at 10 AM knowing I have five runs under my belt? Who can beat that? For me, "this place I live" is paradise.

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