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As much as stick my fingers in my ears and my hands over my eyes, the Christmas season continues in all its relentlessness; not unlike this plant down the road. If it is a forsythia, and I think it is, it shouldn’t be out until Easter. I don’t like it anyway, my sympathy lies with the fence.

On the upside, at least it’s not a poinsettia. Now, I really hate those: the leaves always drop off the moment you have bought them.

*2 weeks to Epiphany