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From Poop with Love

Every April, my poetry loving Mom would remind me that April is the cruelest month. Even T.S. Eliot knew that...This one has been particularly unpleasant. However, there is nothing quite like the brave and hopeful face of a daffodil to remind one that we are all just passing though and the rebirth is rumbling below. Have faith, keep going, look to the east. This February, I found a bag of daffodils I forgot to plant in the fall. Knowing they would just rot or dehydrate left in the garage, I tossed them into a compost (horse poop) pile and forgot about them. Then, on this 38 degree, slate grey afternoon, a lemon yellow friend waved at me across the yard. That little nugget made the best of a sh*%$y situation and made my day:) Nice try April, happiness wins, yet again.

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