When we were children and winter arrived, Grandmama would recite this poem to us: “The wind doth blow and we shall have snow and what will poor Robin do then? He’ll sit in the barn and keep himself warm and put his head under his wing, poor thing.”

It was entirely appropriate, because we lived in a house built in 1860, and though it was spacious, the insulation was nonexistent. It was just about as cold in the hall as it was outside, and

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