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Sparrows

Springtide

Spring Narcissi

Having had a head ringing like a bell with a seasonal/pressure/space headache has not been fun for the past few days. For some reason, it seems that my super-ability is to detect storms by having woozy migraines. Yay me. That translated into approximately 100% more hot cocoas, 100% less alcohol, and walking around in a body suit made of all my warm clothes because of THE STORM OF DEATH. You get the idea.

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“The day god feeds all his sparrows”: a delightful Yorkshire phrase given to me by an older neighbour, used by his father for the day of every week that his pension credit came in. Source: David Downing, Cymru.

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