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It was an unusually warm Texas December the first year we moved there. I was 13, and my siblings and I missed the white Christmases we had had in Kansas. Although such a prospect seemed impossible, the temperature did unexpectedly drop below freezing one night just before Christmas. My father sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night and, using a garden hose, sprayed the bushes and trees in our yard. We awoke the next morning to my father’s Christmas gift to us–a “white” Christmas, as every branch and blade of grass glistened with ice.
