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January 30, 2002
I feel it coming on. Spring. I sit and watch the evening sunset. The time gets later. The sun hangs longer in the sky. The days aren’t any warmer. There’s still the cruelest month to go: February.

But I’m sure winter is waning.

I watch the migrating sunsets. The western hillside, where the sun sets day after day in winter, makes a 100-foot plunge. As the sun travels north along the horizon, I’m about a week away from an extra half hour of light. I notice my upcoming good fortune. My lovely sun is about to migrate past the plunge.