Spring is well advanced. The trees are leafing out, and the neighbor’s houses are vanishing behind walls of particulate green.

Driving home this morning, the verges are full of wild buttercups, which were a bizarre contrast to the hulking, glossy body of a black vulture who had found some tasty bit of roadkill. As a vision of spring, distinctly non-standard, but I was pleased to see it anyway.

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  • I write & illustrate books, garden, take photos, and blather about myriad things. I have very strong feelings about potatoes.

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