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When I moved to the Vineyard in 1970, about to have a baby, I thought it time to get back to my roots and I had no idea where to start.

I am a slave to tradition and the queen of repetition at the same time.

I’m disappointed with hyacinths. A few years ago I planted a shocking amount of them in all different colors.

Monday afternoon was particularly nice. The sun came out and crocuses and daffodils were blooming their little heads off above the snow cover.

The beautiful weather raised my level of anxiety somewhat. I wandered around looking for signs of life in the perennial beds.

I have a tiny resentment about the beautiful weather. Wait, let me explain.

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