I could imagine a spring elsewhere: berlandier's trumpets, lazy daisies, red spiderlings, and texas sedge. I could be outside in a cold pool of water drinking tecatas unself-consciously because no one knows who I am.
Even still, this proverbial spring charms me with its history. I know which streets to turn down to see the willows' dominion over the sidewalk, and I know which neighbors will have the best perennial parade.
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