The crocus is the first to bloom each year in our garden. And this year it came even earlier, well ahead of the forsythia I thought might overtake its precocity.
Perhaps not incoincidentally, my daughter celebrates a birthday.
A year ago, one,
And today you are two.
Two years from three,
And now we're complete.
Say you'll never leave,
Cause if you did,
It might not be the same.
Happy birthday, Googles.
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