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Sixteen days and counting

We all know, ” for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days as a rule are plenty“, and we can now all rejoice that those 28 days have now blessedly departed. Tis true, the snows have not yet fully melted, and we’ve had trouble stringing two sunny days together, not to mention two days above freezing, but small signs of hope have appeared to give us faith that our February bred depression will soon be over. A few days ago, our yard played host to a convention of many hundreds of migrating blackbirds, who chattered among themselves as loudly and nonsensically as a Republican convention of similar size might do. Today, as you can see below, these daffodils, these happy few, this band of brothers, pushed their heads through the frozen soil to announce to the world that better days lie ahead, that we have not “clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast” for naught, and we will soon have sunshine, baseball, and barbecues, though, alas, we will still have Republicans.

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