It is March now.
And my feet smell.
And the grass and ground are wet and warm.
The farmer's market will open soon, and we will go there with our non-disposable bags and we will buy things.
The nights grow cold: misty. Rivulets stream down our car windows.
Heat and air conditioning. Flowers and local honey so we can stand them.
Sidewalk chalk.
It's the time for plan making: making plans.
Wondering about their fruition.
Eating asparagus... and wondering.
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