“I think this is the butterfly tree,” Katie says of a bare-branched specimen that’s only just beginning to bud. She digs her phone out from deep in the pocket of her goose-down and proceeds to photograph the nascent buds.
Beside the tree, an ornate, old-fashioned looking lamppost stands, its lamp shattered and hanging at a cocked angle off the top, and I examine it, feeling, for some reason, that this is spring, too.
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