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April 14, 2013

I catch the movement of a small ground squirrel up the mulberry tree behind the retaining wall.  The leaves are small and light green.  It is that time of year; the woods are young and old simultaneously, laying a new cycle down on top of the old.  There is a different kind of memory here.  I too have a different kind of memory as my daily list of things to do begins to morph and even the things on it that I begin to ignore change.  Oh, but I am still struggling with the things that transcend these seasonal cycles.