That hurt.

You’ve heard of the first robin of spring. Well I must report seeing the last dead bird of winter. It sat stunned outside my house yesterday moving its sad little beak reflexively before it keeled over and died.  It had slammed into a window here so hard I thought a tree had fallen.  You can’t blame me–the windows aren’t shiny and clean at all. I’m ok with giving winter and the poor bird a dignified burial and moving on.

Just be thankful I didn’t take a picture of the last unshaved legs of winter.  It’s not as if the first shaved legs of spring are all that photogenic either.

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