Day Two: Ma awoke at dawn to render lard for the last of our pemmican, whilst I restrung th fiddle with remaining sinew from Fall kill. The young-uns played “Ball Toss” among burlap quilts, huddled close to th fire. We are down to our last gourd, and firewoode supplies are woefully low. Vinny barks at 27 ft. snow drifts that have enveloped the cabin. He looks delicious. We hope to survive to see Spring-Time.
Blizzardocolypse, snowmageddon, SOMG blizzard of 2011 diary entry.
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