"Profile of Time" by Salvador Dali
It seems like 2020 and 2021 morphed into a single big old lump of a year. The NBC website had a quiz testing your memory of what news events happened in which year. I gave up when realized I was flunking. Maybe it doesn't really matter anyway.
New Years should be about anticipating a bright future, but January sure looks grim, with so much sickness and more disruption. Anyway, off we go into the wildlands of 2022.
We're still frozen solid in Seattle and no relief until Thursday at the earliest. In the past, I'd haul pots into the laundry room, cover up tender outdoor plants and generally fret. Maybe I'm numb.
Let Nature run its course and take care of some garden housecleaning. Now that I have two yards to keep up, I need to simplify the work anyway. We'll see what's what when February rolls around. Four weeks of hibernation sounds pretty smart about now.
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