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And then, the night before pea planting eve, it snowed.
On his evening walk, Del cavorted and frolicked on the end of the leash. His humans were less than thrilled.
There are few things in my life as keen as the heartbreak of late March snow. Tomorrow it's supposed to be near sixty, finally, and all this white crap better be GONE by then, so I can freaking plant. That is my sworn statement. The romance and quiet and seclusion of winter is gone. Spring is what the people need.
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