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It was a cold and windy night. The shrouds of the sailboats whistled and moaned in the cold, cold breezes. The marina was alive with the restless jostling of craft both large and small. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed. Near at hand a low creaking sound. Perhaps a piling coming loose, perhaps a dock failing under the pressure of pounding waves. Palm fronds all pointing the one direction, away, away, away from the terrible cold, away from the unrelenting pressure.
Wintry weather has returned to remind us of the calendar's unavoidable rule. It is January. It is not a time of balmy breezes and warm sunny skies. It is time for cold, and wind, and gray. Well, at least as much as it gets like that here in Florida.
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