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There would be snow enough in the next few months that even the most joyous lover of winter would be thoroughly sick of it before the landscape turned to green, but the first blanket of white covering the fields and forest floors was a thing of beauty, a special wonder to behold.Mike McMahon hadn't been expecting snow; the weatherman on the TV station in Camden had said something about "possible scattered flurries", so when he stumbled to the bathroom in the early morning light, with the full intention of returning to bed for another couple of hours, the sight of the blanket of white in the early morning light brought him instantly awake. He looked once, briefly, then looked again at the white fields and the couple of inches of heavy wet, snow piled on the windowsill, and knew instantly what to do: he half walked, half ran to the phone, and dialed it frantically."What's out?" a half-awake Mark replied. The only reason he ever got a call at that hour of the morning was a major.

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