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Pale tender leaves peek out from the tips of budding branches. Light cotton short sleeves and skirts replace dark wool pants now mothballed in stuffy closets. As high noon gets a little higher the warm shadows shorten, and women celebrate by leaving their braziers at home, while the men try not to stare, discretely. Avenues of flowers, carefully timed like fireworks. so each week explodes a new shade of red and yellow. And the trees retake their place of honor guard along the streets. The sun sets even later now after all the clocks sprang forward. And the children take their time getting to bed. |