Snowmelt dripping from the eaves. When the sun peeks through the clouds, it becomes a bead curtain. The wren is singing.
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Snowmelt dripping from the eaves. When the sun peeks through the clouds, it becomes a bead curtain. The wren is singing.
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Lovely, Dave. I really appreciate your Morning Porch every day. Gives me a little piece of the Pennsylvania woods. I miss that a lot in high, dry, urban Denver!
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Nice to know you’re reading along! Cheers.