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In the winter, Sparrow Lake was like a Christmas-card picture, with snow covered rooftops and trees, skaters on the ice, and the dark lines of the woods rising beyond Lake Road.
My room faced the lake, and from my window at night I could see the Lodge lights and all the black, tall forms of the trees and closed-for-the-winter houses.
How many times I sat by my windows and looked out, watching snow fall, thinking about Johnny Hunter. How many times.....I cannot hope to count them all.
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- Created April 1, 2008
- 7 revisions
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| September 28, 2020 | Edited by MARC Bot | import existing book |
| June 22, 2017 | Edited by Gamblerezra | |
| June 22, 2017 | Edited by Gamblerezra | Added new cover |
| June 22, 2017 | Edited by Gamblerezra | |
| April 1, 2008 | Created by an anonymous user | initial import |

