Like an old friend winter comes. Curled up in flannel sheets tucked tight under the feather bed comforter with my wool blanket pulled up to my nose is where I would like to stay for most of a Missouri winter. Hibernation.
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It was, and still is, a food-centric and health conscious environment I grew up in on Hog Trough Road. No kidding, that's the name of the county road my sister, brother, and I called home. It wasn't the home of any pigs during our formative years, but in the eras past it had been.
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