While walking the dogs last weekend, I came upon a mound of these three-ft-tall sprigs of something (that’s the official botanical term, Sprigs of Something) still standing upright after the relentless beating of winter. They’re so thin, so delicate. How did they do it? Did an elf come after every snowstorm and stand them upright again? Did their mom put their names on the prayer list in the temple? Did they call their friend Kate and say, “Can I come over and cry?”
Their friend Kate is a good friend.