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Drip, drip

I continue to be fascinated with the icicles as they disappear and reform. Soon the roof will be clean and there will be no more.


This morning the sky was not blue, but instead the color of snow. It’s warm here, so all that’s descending is rain. I want it to be spring, but this is damp and miserable.


Couldn’t that be something in a petri dish, or swimming on a slide of pond water under the microscope?

The lady with the afghan at knit night was very pleased with the information I passed on to her. She’s an experienced knitter, so I think she should be able to come up with the pattern. Thank you all for the help!

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