Lost in America

Thursday brought the second genuinely cold morning of what passes for winter in the green heart of Texas, the dormant prairie grasses covered in frost and the ground wrapped in fog as the sun started to come up. The fog had mostly burned off by the time the dogs and I got down to the river, but there was still enough to make the flocks of overwintering ducks feel like they could take it easy as we passed, blue beaks bobbing in the fertile shallows by the erosion control failure people call Secret Beach.

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