Like migrant birds returning in the spring, I seem to revisit The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) every year about this time. Perhaps it is the message of a cautious, wary rejuvenation and pragmatic rebirth. Slowing becoming aware of the sounds, the scents, the pale light of a reluctant spring and adjusting to the surprise that life will go on.
Also marking the 13th anniversary of this blog. Thank you for the pleasure of your company.
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