sprung

Apparently, the bulbs I planted last fall think that it's Springtime In Laramie. I looked in the flower bed this morning and saw stiff green shoots heading out for daylight amid the dead leaves I piled on last fall. Maybe their natural instincts tell them something that I'm not quite willing to accept, but I doubt it. I'm pretty sure that on March 1st, when I pull Ralph the Squirrel down from his tree, he's gonna tell me that we've still got six weeks of winter in Laramie. That's what I'm hoping for, at least. I've hardly even scuffed the new snowshoes so far.

In related news, it was in the 50s here today, but on my walk home from the Cowgirls basketball game (UW: 71; CSU: 62. Go 'pokes!) the sky was making a half-assed attempt to spit some white flakes. Not much of an effort, but at least there's hope.

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