[Margaret's brow furrows as she tries to summon a mental image of St. Petersburg in the summer. She's only ever seen it in pictures, of course, so her version is sketchy and flat, blurred by her preconceived notions of the Soviet Union. Vasiliy mentioned it was an ocean city, so she focuses on that, instead. If St. Petersburg was by the sea, do they have seagulls crying overhead? They must. Japan had seagulls. Korea had seagulls. Could the birds bear the frigid temperatures? Or did they migrate south for the winter?

She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts.]

God, I'd kill for weather in the seventies right now.

[Margaret continues to excavate the snow at a steady pace, kicking the top of the shovel head to push it under a particularly stubborn block of snow.]

I'd tell you about where I grew up, but there wouldn't be much to tell. I never stayed more than a year or two in one place until I went to college. [She lets out a quiet snort.] My father--he was a colonel in the US Army. So every time he was transferred somewhere new, I'd have to go with him.

[She recalls the information with a detached, matter-of-fact tone.]