Curled up, not asleep
When you get close enough to one of these things, you can see how much they look like some kind of alien cyborg with brightly colored armor. And they just look mean.
When you get close enough to one of these things, you can see how much they look like some kind of alien cyborg with brightly colored armor. And they just look mean.
This little dude was just hanging out on the knob of the rocking chair the other day.
“I don’t see why I am always asking for private, individual, selfish miracles when every year there are miracles like white dogwood.” — Anne Morrow Lindbergh
… and winter is still holding on a bit. We have earned spring, though. Like it’s some lusted-after prize won in a back-alley fight club match, we’ll gladly accept it even though we are bruised and bloodied. And sneezing. Because this spring is murder on the head.
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