Joy

equals four hours in Shakerag Hollow on a quiet weekday, no one in sight.  Just me, wildflowers scattered all across the forest floor, birds, and my camera.  Seven hundred and seventy-two photographs later, I ache to return.  Already bloodroot, hepatica, trillium, Dutchman's breeches, trout lily, and more blossom, weeks earlier than usual.


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Nothing -- not tornado-force winds, snow, plummeting temperatures -- can hold back the force of greening.