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after the stormI haven’t seen the peaks of the Worcester Range for a week, but yesterday the blue light of the sky sifted through the clouds and played on the hillside for hours.

Last week a nor’easter settled in for days, weighing down us down with ice and snow, and now in the calm, trees still hold the evidence of the storm: white branches bowing down, mountainsides frozen thick with frost.

Each time I step outside, I feel as if I’ve entered Narnia, and my inner-child wakes up, dazzled and wondering, surrounded by magic.