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The sun is shining.  It’s been shining for two days now, two weekend days.

Today is so warm that hats and gloves are ridiculous and keeping one’s coat fastened purely optional. Did I mention that the sun is shining?  For two days in a row?  Two weekend days?

Emerging from the thick dirty snowbanks, the streets show themselves to be beaten into broken asphalt, iron service cover rims, even old buried tracks.

The pedestrian area on Granville has collected more cigarette butts than I’ve ever seen in one place in my life, including outdoor rock concert venues in the 1970’s.  Presumably, it’s an accretion of layers from the neighbouring bars, last week’s snowed over and this week’s added, for all those weeks on end.  With the thaw came the revelation of quite how smoky those bar patrons can get when they step outside.

There’s kindling everywhere under every street tree, racked down by the various storms that blew through and trapped the twigs between bundles of snow, ice, slush, refrozen crud. The sun’s bright but the ground looks like a small disaster.

The sun’s shining.  Did I mention that part?

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